Last Eclipse
by Verdesilath
Summary: Harry has been sent to Grimmauld, only to find a surprise waiting for him that he has always wanted. However, when realizing what the implications of this surprise are, he questions what he believes. Love isn't enough this time around. Wish carefully...
1. Prelude to Chaos

Introduction to Chaos  
  
He wasn't smart, nor was he handsome. He was neither tall nor built. He was special in no easily seen way. Right now, he was staring at a lake. His reflection mocked him, and the tears on his reflection looked odd upon the liquid surface. He wasn't even strong in any way. More tears slid down his face. He was a stupid boy. That was all, and he knew it. It was because he had made a mistake, and his godfather was killed. His fingers slipped from his cheeks and touched the surface of the water, no deeper. As he moved forward, one of his messy bangs slid away from his face, showing the one special thing about him.  
As he saw the lightning bolt scar's reflection, another tear fell in to the lake. This had a large affect on the lake, and ripples went farther and farther away, the ripples slowly thinning out, but it didn't matter. The scar was the reason for this whole mess to begin with. It ached now, and he rubbed absently with the palm of his hand. The figure's name was Harry Potter.  
Time took a snapshot of this moment. He looked liked an angel who had fallen from grace. His messy black hair wasn't long, but wisps fell on his pallid face. His face was a dusky color, a light gold, but it lacked the burning color of life. His face was tilted downwards, his scar making him an enigma. His lips were opened slightly, and one could imagine a long scream pouring from his slightly opened lips. A tear was marking his face, and his body was arched above the pool. His fingers were above the surface of the liquid. Time unfroze.  
  
Harry Potter woke up from an odd dream. He, like most people, could not remember his dreams vividly. He could only remember sadness ghostly tapping his shoulders. Harry yawned, stretching. He pushed away a few stray wisps of hair to feel something wet on his face. "What?" thought Harry, as he traced the cold liquid up his face. "Tears." He muttered as he realized.  
This fifteen-year-old was dealing with Sirius' death in an odd way. He looked as his life before Sirius' death as a distant memory. Yes, he acknowledged it, but it was as if a different person had been at the ministry. A more trusting, innocent, yet foolhardy boy had come, while a sad, bitter man had left Dumbledore's office. This man knew he had to start conditioning himself for the upcoming battles. Yet, the man liked to be in nihility. It made him feel better, or that's what he always told himself.  
So, this is the scene that the first act starts off in. Harry Potter is cooking the Dursleys' breakfast as usual, wearing dank clothes and slightly crooked glasses. Dudley is coming down the stairs, yawning, and sitting his large bottom down on a special chair that his parents bought especially for him to fit his bottom. Now, the action starts with a knock on the door. "Harry! Answer it!" Dudley said, almost whining. "Fine, but Dudley, you really need to start doing things for yourself. What if I died right now! How will you know the correct way to open the door without letting a burglar in!" "It's too early for this." "I'll get it, okay?"  
Harry muttered under his breath as he stared through the peephole. A black guy with corn rowed hair was there, a basketball in hand. Harry winced. The guy had muscles, and seemed the athletic sort, the exact sort Harry wasn't. Sure, he played quidditch, but it was only because he loved to fly. Harry gulped. He didn't want to answer the door. The doorbell went off again, and Harry sighed, opening the door. "Are you Harry Potter?"  
Harry heard a crack. Mundungus Fletcher was visible; he took out his wand and obliviated the guy and led him to another place. "Sorry there," muttered Mundungus. "Why did you do that?" "Harry, didn't you read the letters? You're not supposed to go outside?" "I'm not." "Please don't be difficult." Mundungus whined. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, I'm so sorry Harry! I mean, for a second there, I forgot about Sirius' dea—. Oh no! I didn't mean to say that! Harry! I meant," Harry cut Mundungus off by now. He was already angry about the obliviate, and now Mundungus completely botched up the conversation. "Don't ever do that again! Don't do that! That guy could've been my friend, and you obliviated him! You should be sentenced for that. There was no point of doing that! I really can't believe you! Are you drunk again?" Harry growled, as he shut the door on Fletcher's face and walked away to see the Dursleys'. "Boy." Vernon began, "Explain."  
Harry fidgeted. There was no way he was going to get out of this one. He scratched his left hand's thumb as he thought about what to say. "Well...erm, a lot of wizards are patrolling this house and," Harry noticed Vernon's face becoming purple, "So you'll never have to worry about burglars again?" Harry shakily laughed. A lot of yelling went on that day, only to have Harry to lock himself in his room. Then Harry started a fire.


	2. Beliefs and Silent Symphonies

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all other characters from her books. This was made for nonprofit uses.  
  
Beliefs and Silent Symphonies  
  
Harry blew out the flames, beat the ashes, and wetted the spot scorch marks now marred. He didn't know why he made a fire, using Ron and Hermione's unread letters as kindling, but he knew he had to put it out before the Dursleys smelled smoke or the smoke alarm went off. Harry fell asleep, and woke up groaning. He had had an odd dream, but a wonderful advancement from his usual nightmares, in which he was a bird that everyone tried to shoot down. They eventually captured him, but he had been able to surprise them by becoming the essence of flames, burning the people's hands.  
  
The scarred boy groaned as he remembered the day before's events. Mundungus Fletcher always seemed like an easy-going man to him, a man who knew his wine and beer, but a kind, aloof man all the same. The Fletcher Harry had met yesterday reminded him of Quirrel, or Lockhart, maybe even Wormtail. This Fletcher had disgusted Harry. This Fletcher made Harry start thinking.  
  
At first, all rational thought left Harry. Harry passionately believed so much, yet his beliefs were in tatters. That drunkard of a man had made him wonder why this war was really going on. Sure, he knew the power-crazed demented Lord Voldemort stories, but that couldn't be all. One couldn't be born evil, could they?  
  
Harry only had one belief to grasp on now, and that belief in itself was precarious. This belief was that answers to his questions were in his questions, and that fate bound him to Voldemort if he liked it or not. Now he had to do some serious research on Voldemort. They always said, "know your enemy," right?  
  
Harry stood still, unmoving.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Was it a storm? No, it wasn't.  
  
A crash resounded, echoing in the hot summer dust. Harry ran down the stairs, peeking out the window. A car had crashed into the Hibbits' fence. Still, his skin was crawling. Still, something was wrong. Still, he wouldn't admit that to himself. Harry whistled forlornly as he went into the kitchen to start breakfast, ignoring the feeling of spidery veils being sifted through his skin.  
  
Hermione was a rational thinker, a realist one might call her. She was smart, everyone told her, and they thought she would fall in love with a certain redhead. Well, they were almost right on that one. She had fallen in love with a redhead, with reddish-gold locks instead of fire engine red. His smile made her feel lost, his eyes were hazel depths of secrets. So many secrets he held, and his hair was spun sunlight and blood rose in thick tresses.   
  
Everything Hermione felt when she saw him was irrational. She felt as if she was in another world, she felt complete, she felt bitter cold with raging heat. She had never felt this way. She smiled; she couldn't wait until Harry met him. Ron had been angered at Hermione's change from uptight and intellectual to a philosopher of wisdom. She, personally, loved the change. Knowledge in itself doesn't make wisdom. Her meeting him made wisdom. Realizing there is no irrational was wisdom. He still didn't know the true depth of her feelings, but when they spent time together, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he loved someone else if it made him happy, it didn't matter if he didn't share her feelings, if that was the truth, and it didn't matter if she was emotionally hurt because it turned out he didn't like her in the way she liked him. It didn't matter because she loved him and that is the way or love.   
  
Harry was dying. He was sure of it. There was so much pain. All he saw was arched in blood, a vision, and he was floating; arms stretched to his sides, eyes open and glaring at his destiny. He felt as if swords were tearing through his limbs, one by one. Blood was scattered all over the floor. White cold loneliness enveloped his hot body. In the physical world, Harry was lying on the tiled kitchen floor, tears falling down his face, boiling water in a pot on the stove forgotten. The buzzard went off, and the Dursleys stormed downstairs to see an unconscious Harry with a wet spoon still in his hands.   
  
Aunt Petunia did what she never thought she would have to. She told Arabella Figg to contact Dumbledore. Aunt Petunia was not stupid; she had realized Arabella was part of the freakish world. Order members appeared in Aunt Petunia's house, dirtying the floor with mud to her dismay. They picked up the boy, and disappeared in a crack, leaving the Dursleys with no explanation, a half-cooked breakfast, and a wet spoon on the floor.  
  
Harry awoke to the words, "Is the boy okay?" and worried glances. He was happy, and then remembered the implications of the situation, Sirius' death, and the pain, so he vomited. A brunet hovered above him, shoving bitter liquids down his burning throat. He felt better. Harry saw a familiar long white beard.  
  
"Harry, could you tell us what happened?"  
  
"Oh! Well, I felt as if," Harry absently rubbed his neck before continuing, "as if somebody was sifting a net through me. I was cooking breakfast, so I kinda collapsed. It hurt so much. Everything was red, and swords were piecing me. Um... Has Voldemort done anything odd lately?"  
  
"I was just about to tell you," Dumbledore spoke softly, piercing blue eyes watching Harry carefully, "That, whatever it was, was not from Voldemort. I was hoping if you told us what happened, we'd get a better idea about what it could be."  
  
Harry smiled ruefully. All the ordure had to happen to him.   
  
"Well, happy birthday Harry," Dumbledore said softly.  
  
"My birthday?" Harry gasped. Today was his birthday! This was the first time he had forgotten his birthday!   
  
"Well, on the lighter note," Dumbledore continued, eyes now twinkling, "The Order has a surprise or you, and if you feel well enough, we can show you."  
  
Even the brunet, the healer probably, was smiling down encouragingly at him. This made him angry. He was not a child, yet they were still babying him. However, his anger would never be able to be spout out since he was so interested in this "surprise."  
  
Hermione and Ron couldn't wait to see Harry. They couldn't wait to tell him what had happened. It was Mrs.Weasley's idea to throw a birthday party for Harry. She had decided that by surprising him, it would help take Harry's mind from other things, meaning, Sirius' departure. The Weasleys and Hermione had sat around in a room in Grimmauld Place, planning for the party. Lupin had come in, and added some ideas. Ginny had laughed as she carefully helped to make the cake, fiery hair slipping past he cheeks. During the early summer, in rage, Ginny's hair was cut to the lobes of her ears.   
  
"It was all Fred's fault," as she would later explain, "Because he set off one of his Conniving Creatures. Hermione had grown a tail and cat ears, and Ron had grown a fox tail! I was shocked, but who wouldn't be, when Ron's tail looped around Hermione's waist. Someone could've bloody warned me!"  
  
Ginny then walked into a knife holder, and the knives nearly clear cut off most of her hair since magic made their blades become sharp enough to cut a strand of hair without strain.  
  
Mrs. Weasley wasn't too happy with that. She was already angry at Ginny for cursing (how unladylike, this wasn't how I brought you up, young lady!) so as punishment made Ginny keep the haircut. Ginny was upset, for she had been growing her hair for years, but got over it quickly.   
  
"The other part of the plan was to show him the surprise of all surprises, a miracle, and amazing."   
  
"However, the first plan obviously didn't work out. So why should the second plan go into action?"   
  
"Why, you ask?"   
  
"It is because this surprise won't go away, and sooner is better than later."  
  
"That doesn't sound good."  
  
"It's a good surprise. You'll enjoy it too."  
  
"I'm not partial to surprises."  
  
"That will change."  
  
"Well, this 'wonderful' plan, when does it begin?"  
  
"Exactly two minutes from now."  
  
"So we must leave then."  
  
"Actually, we can jut go this way, turn and there."  
  
"There, what?"  
  
"The surprise. Harry is coming along with the rest of the household."  
  
"Wonderful. Now Hermione's parents can be horrified that the werewolf is back."  
  
"You know that it can be a shock. There 'baby' is in this world where they can't protect her, and werewolves really exist."  
  
"I know, I know."  
  
"We should be on our way."   
  
"Fine, I'm coming."  
  
"Oh! Lemon drop, Remus?"  
  
"No thank you.   
  
Dumbledore, Lupin, and were the last to enter the room.   
  
"Here's your birthday surprise." Dumbledore announced to Harry, as doors were opened to reveal two parent, one adult, and four teenagers.   
  
One of the parents had a reddish gold mane of hair, cut just above her chin. Her hair was thick and layered. Next to her stood a tall man, with hazel eyes. His hair was messy, thick, but short, and he wore thin, silver, glasses. A man with a full face and long dark hair pulled in a loose ponytail with a large smile on his face and a mustache stood above the youngest teenager. She had messy dark red hair that was pulled in a loose bun with strands falling out. Her eyes were hazel as well. The next teenager was a boy. He had light green eyes with streaks of gray, almost hazel, but not quite there yet, and a round face like his father's. His stature was also like his fathers, and he seemed confident. The next teenager was also a boy, with light hazel eyes and a mop of reddish gold hair. It was fairly thick, but neat. The last stranger was the oldest of the teenagers. He was smiling, but he seemed to feel superior to those in the room. He had neat, thick hair and dark hazel eyes. He seemed a bit troubled.  
  
All the strangers were lavishly dressed, and the man with the moustache was almost outlandishly so, as his robes were dark yellow with scarlet lining. He had a lavender hat atop his head, with a yellow feather elegantly coming out of it.  
  
"Sirius!" yelled Remus. He ran to the outlandish man and hugged him without abandon. Everyone else was completely confused. Harry was especially confused. The man Remus had called Sirius looked nothing like the Sirius he knew.  
  
Sirius had long hair as well, and dark brown eyes like the man before them. However, Sirius was slightly gaunt, and always looked like a fugitive.  
  
As Hagrid said, "Af'er that, a man will ne'r be the same. I be, if a man ac'ually escaped, they be no mistakin' him. He'll stand out, as if marked, 'cause no one is the same af'er that. No one."  
  
This man was exultant and proud. He had an easy smile and no shadows in his eyes. Whoever this man was, it wasn't Harry's Sirius.  
  
Remus continued to shout.  
  
"James! Lily! And I'll be, these are you're munchkins!"  
  
"I'm Prongs Jr.," corrected the boy that looked a lot like the man with the glasses in every aspect but his face structure.   
  
"Well, actually, I'm Alexander, but please call me Alex," the boy continued.  
  
Harry felt a stab in his heart. His eyes widened. Prongs Jr. Then it hit him full force, but he didn't respond like Remus. If anyone weren't watching the "surprise" they would've noticed Harry's corner of the room slightly darkened. That person would've also heard the boy murmuring, "That can't be. I just can't be. They're dead and even if they weren't how did this... Why did they leave me?"  
  
Harry's heart was shattering. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair! It seemed these people were his parents, but that couldn't be because his parents were dead. Yet... they had gone on to leave their lives without him. Joyfully, it looked like, and they had children! Oh, that hurt him so bad. He looked just like his father, or that's what everyone always said. Obviously, he didn't. He didn't look like anyone; he was just a bastard child.   
  
They were all right. Uncle Vernon, Dudley's gang, and most of all Dudley. They told him his parents never wanted him; they were right. Harry could feel something in his heart twisting, plunging, and dying. There was so much pain, so much pain and hopelessness. They had lied. All of them. This time, however, he was going to listen to the explanation. However, at this point, Harry felt that nothing would make him feel better.  
  
He soon realized all eyes were on him. He looked up straight into James' and Lily's eyes and spoke.  
  
"You shouldn't have lived." Lily burst into tears.   
  
"What did you say to my mother?" The oldest teenager angrily said, pulling Harry up by his shirt. Harry realized, to his dismay, that this boy who must be younger than him was a few inches taller than him.  
  
"Our mother." Harry said looking at the ground.  
  
"What?" the boy snarled.  
  
"She is our mother."   
  
The boy faltered, but continued, "She may be by blood but..."  
  
"But?" Harry challenged.  
  
"You and I know it. She'll never be your real mother."  
  
He loosened up on Harry's shirt, and let him fall to the ground. But the words echoed in his mind, "She'll never be your real mother."   
  
"Nathan!" the man who was "Sirius" said. "Stop that! This is your brother, your older brother. He's my godson. Stop it."  
  
After that, everyone was expecting Harry to run up to Sirius and give him a hug.  
  
After that, Harry walked over to Dumbledore and held a wand to his own throat.  
  
"Explain." Harry said softly. "Or you're tool will be...'incapable' of doing its job."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Harry didn't yield.  
  
"Well, it began like this. I didn't know your parents and Sirius were alive and prospering until yesterday if it makes you feel any better. We did every test, and under veritaserum there story was valid. Harry, your parents were nearly dead, but still alive. A Healer saw them, and took to healing them. Then they fled to America disguising as muggles and changing their whole identity. Well, you can see they-"  
  
"Mated," Harry supplied, "and quite a few times." James and Lily blushed.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore continued, "if you must put it that way. Then Sirius was nearly dead. He staged his death with a Reem Receptor next to him. It makes a copy of that person. A dark object, it is used to clone a person completely and utterly, along with their magic. He fled to America and met the Potters there."  
  
Harry lowered his wand. "I don't blame you, Professor Dumbledore." Then Harry sighed, saying softly, "I never did like surprises. Something always bothered me about them, even when I was little."   
  
Please Review! This story was supposed to be a revamped version of my previous story, "True Revolution." However, it is changed in so many ways I am not sure even some small details hold true. I want your utmost opinion of my story, my updating counts on it. The more reviews I get, the quicker I update. I just need motivation.   
  
-Verdesilath 


	3. Illusions Versus Bad Decisions

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all other characters from her books.   This was made for nonprofit uses.

_Illusion Versus Bad Decisions_

            The Potter family was all very attached to each other; they held a strong bond that they claimed would never break.  Then they met Harry.  At first they were worried about how Harry would react to them, but when Sirius came, singing Harry's praises, they were sure he might fit in.  If they had come a year earlier, he just might have.  However, Sirius' "death", Voldemort's new strength, his dreams in which he "was" Voldemort, and most of all the prophecy, Harry had changed.  He no longer allowed himself to be charmed with frivolous things, his whole life force and will was aimed towards Voldemort.  He was starting to have an obsession as unhealthy as Voldemort's with him.

The Potter family wasn't ready for a son and brother that kept most things to himself.

The Potter family wasn't ready for this enigmatic person who seemed to not be human.

And so, the Potter family was horrified to meet Harry. 

            Sirius was hurt the most.  Harry had completely and utterly rejected him, and their bond (though present) was fading.  Sirius, not a patient man, wanted to know what had changed Harry so much, and he wanted to know now.  At least Remus had acknowledged him.  That would have to sate him for now. 

At least Harry's friends liked the Potter family.  Sirius was beginning to think that Hermione was stuck on Davis.  Maybe Harry's friends could encourage him to become part of his family.  He would learn to love him.

Meanwhile, Harry had other plans for himself.  Right now, though he could barely believe it himself, he was waiting for the Order meeting to end so he could talk to Snape.  He was absentmindedly biting his nails.  Finally the meeting was over.  Harry squeaked, realizing what he was about to do.

"Erm, professor…I was wondering if…"

"Spit it out Potter!"

"You know you're eventually gonna have to call me something else, because of my," Harry paused as his shoes squeaked, "family."  Harry cleared his throat, pulling at his hair.  Then he waited for Snape to respond only to see cold obsidian pools directed towards him.

"Well," continued Harry, "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," Harry eyed his relatives, "alone."

            Snape's curiosity was spiked.  What was the boy going to say now?  It was probably some half-assed apology so he could get something.  His perfect Potter family was probably making him do it.  It was uncanny how the Potter boy always got what he wanted.  It was uncanny and wrong.  Currently, the boy-who-lived was opening a door, leading him into it, and then locking it. 

Harry then looked up at Snape expectantly, so Snape cast a charm so no one could hear the inevitable conversation. 

 "I am so sorry."  Harry said softly looking at his shoes.  It wasn't until his parents turned out to be alive that Harry became sorry.  Then he realized Snape would be a good ally and would help him (more like beat it into him) the skills that he would need to kill Voldemort.  A shiver ran down Harry's spine.  He didn't _want_ to kill the power maniac.  He wanted to… he wasn't sure what he wanted to do.

"I'm sorry that I looked at your pensieve.  Pretty little surprise for me, that my father was not the perfect, handsome man everyone loved.  He was so cruel!  Then it turns out that my father's alive.  Oh joy, I _really _want to run up and hug him now."  Harry stopped in mid-rant and sighed.

"I am asking a lot of you now.  First however, I'll give you a memory of mine that is just as bad so we can be even."  Harry really didn't want to do this.  However, he completely opened his mind, concentrating on a recent memory of his.   

Snape was sure the boy was crazy. Then he saw the memory.  __

_Harry was drinking a vial of a cerise liquid.  He closed his eyes, and then dipped his hand in a bowl of water.  When he opened his eyes.  He saw his animagus form.  He clasped his hand over his mouth, trying to pull out of this ritual, but it was too late.  His flesh turned gray, his body cold.  He heard an echo of voices he was sure was not there.  He opened his eyes to a dim world.  Then he felt the pain, the unrequited…_

            Snape pulled out of Harry's mind before he could understand what the emotion was.  Still, Snape had no idea what Harry's animagus form was.  The dark-haired boy was bent over on the ground, tracing patterns on the rug.

"I didn't believe it at first.  I was expecting more of the lions of a griffin, maybe even some type of snake.  Then Voldemort explained it to me.  I was so weak after the transformation that he was able to easily realize what I was.  He told me it was partly because of me being marked by death.  The rest of it was because I'm not like most people.  I see some things others don't, things that are there, yes, but most wouldn't realize.  Like, I see the effects of an action everywhere without straining to realize it.  It's like," Harry struggled for words, "It's like I am not supposed to be here, yet I am and I can't leave so, I'm trapped.  My animagus form, Snape, was a dementor."

            Thoughts ran rampant in Snape's head.  Little to nothing was known about these creatures, it would be such an opportunity to learn.  Wait!  Voldemort knew about this, and Dumbledore didn't.  But the boy… this was not something you wanted everyone to know.  A parseltongue with a dementor as his animagus form.  If it got out to the public…

"Why?"  Snape said softly, searching for an answer in empty pools of green.   "Why did you tell me, one of the one's you hate?"

Harry laughed. "I don't hate you!  However, I would like it if you started Occlumency lessons with me again.  Also, the thing I wanted to tell you… I want you to teach me.  Tell me what to do, give me the skills to defeat Voldemort.  I want you to make me understand how to… how to do what I must.  The prophecy was that neither can live as long as the other is alive.  It means kill or be killed.  I need you."

"Fine."  The biting tone was back in Snape's voice. "You must obey me, however.  First thing is first.  We must work out your schedule."  Snape walked to the door of the locked room.  "Oh, and Harry," Harry hated the way Snape said his name, Potter would have been better. "Quit quidditch if you are offered to play again.  You have no time for that."  Harry's body became stiff, but he nodded anyway.  "I will keep your secret."

            Snape took off the various spells and opened the door, leaving a startled young man inside.  Quidditch wasn't a game to Harry; it was an art. 

            Harry slowly made his way out of the room to see Hermione talking to one of his brothers (Harry cringed at that).  The brother was Davis.  Harry made his way to Hermione, eager to talk to his friend.  Then he stopped.  Hermione's eyes, focused on Davis, stopped him.  She looked happier than he had ever seen her, eyes sparkling and joyful.  She looked prettier with that happy smiled on her face, but it hurt Harry.  He was never good enough.  He was an oddity; he didn't even know one of his best friends had never been truly happy all the time he knew her. 

            She was in love.  He could tell.  It was the only thing that could make her smile that way.  Harry smiled eyes bitter.  Oh, it was a joy being the boy-who-lived, a beautiful fucking joy.  Harry saw a flash of obsidian, silver etched in it. 

"Wait!"  Harry called, and the cloak stopped moving.  "I _still_ haven't told you what I really think of you."

Harry ran up to Snape, standing on his tiptoes and still not being able to reach Snape's ear, finally Snape bent lower, and whispered, "I think you're my new best friend."

Snape stiffened at these words, but didn't turn around.  Without saying another word, Severus Snape apparated.

Harry was confused by this reaction, but nearly everything about the man confused him.

Harry loved a challenge, though, and he was going to keep this mismatched relation up and running.

"Harry," Sirius said softly, dark eyes never leaving Harry's face, "What did you have to say to _him_ that you couldn't say before us?"  Sirius, Remus noted, was not good at handling these types of things.  Remus knew from experience that this sentence, translated to normal people's language, would mean, "Why didn't you hug me?  Why don't you talk to me, and most of all, why are you hanging around that _deatheater_?"

Remus sighed.  Sirius lacked tact, and around Harry, things could get bad.  Luckily, Harry seemed to be taking it better than Remus expected.

"It's really none of your business about what I choose to say around him and not in front of you.  I mean, really, after your fun monthly excursion with 'death', why do you expect me to fill you in?  My Sirius has died so my 'family's' Sirius could be reborn."  Harry said coldly, eyes cold with rage.  Harry knew death well, and when he said the word "death" everything seemed more chilling. 

Remus also knew Harry well.  Harry and Sirius were truly having am miscommunication right now.

Hermione had stopped talking to Davis.  "Harry!  Don't talk to Sirius that way.  You know he did what he had to to survive!  Would you rather for him to be dead?"

Harry's gaze softened at his friend.  The dark-haired boy, however, had done so much to help himself say goodbye to Sirius forever.  He could accept that Sirius was alive, but this Sirius was different, and Harry couldn't understand why.

"I rather it that I," Harry paused, "never mind.  Davis, are you Hermione's boyfriend?"

At this question, the boy blushed.  "Well it isn't official, but I would like her to be my girlfriend."  Davis mumbled, ears pink.  Hermione hugged him, and that was her answer.  It was "yes."  This shattered Harry's heart.  He felt cold hands wrapping around his ribs. 

"Harry…" a voice called.  The cold hands tightened their grip on him, causing him agony.  "You know who I am…" the voice murmured in a voice dripping with honey spiked with poison.  "I am you."  Harry froze at these words.  Was he going crazy?

"Harry!"  Davis called.  "I thought we lost you, you kind of zoned out.  So do I get your blessing?"

"Huh?"

"Hermione agreed to date me if you give your blessing." Hermione chewed on her lip, looking downwards. 

"I give you my blessing, why wouldn't I?"  Harry asked, faltering as he saw Ron in the doorway.

            Later, he would find out, that Ron was smitten with Lena, Harry's sister.  For Harry, things couldn't be worse.  At least, he had Snape to bother.  This lone thought, however, couldn't keep Harry from crying because his friends truly didn't need him anymore.

Please Review!  I want to know your opinion of this story!  Otherwise, I won't update for a long time.  I might even delete this story.   So, press the button, for your opinion means the world to me!

Is this what the prophecy says?  I've lost my book…

-**_Verdesilath_******


	4. Questions with No Answers and Society

Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry Potter.  I only own the plot of this story.  This is used for nonprofit uses.

Author's Note:  Thank you to all of my reviewers!  I appreciate you taking time out of your day to give your opinion and helpful suggestions.  Draka-Nova, I am dedicating this chapter to you.  Now, don't hate me everyone else, because I'm dedicating the next chapter to shadwmage7, and so on until I dedicate the next few chapters to my first five reviewers.  The reason I'm dedicating this to Draka-Nova is because I hope this chapter will satisfy the review.  That's all, but shadwmage7, the next chapter is going to address your concerns and will be dedicated to you!  I will make the next chapter especially long for my first reviewer!

_Questions with No Answers and Society_

            Harry was not a happy camper.  Well, actually, his day was going well until Remus had confronted him and told him that today that he would have to spend his day socializing with his family.  Harry was going to do it for Remus' sake, since Remus had been trying really hard to help him for the past few days.  However, Harry wasn't good at socializing.  This was probably due to the fact that Harry had been kept in most of his young life or left alone thanks to his bully of a cousin.

            Even if Harry truly wanted to get to know them better, he knew he didn't have the skills to.  He was fine with people he already knew, and Harry was able to talk to them easily.  The truth was that Harry was more comfortable with Draco Malfoy than his family.  Maybe it was because he knew what to expect, or not to expect with the younger Malfoy.  This was the worse situation of socialization that could happen to Harry.  Harry admitted that he was a bit reclusive.  This open family, the perfect picture of a family, with no divorces, young pregnancies, or major tragedies, would make things harder for Harry.  The sheer ignorance Nathan held of the world in its true, bare form, astonished Harry.

            Maybe it was because Fate had dealt Harry such a bad hand, but that wasn't the worst of it. Where the Potter couple hadn't let their children be exposed to the cruelty of the world, the cold and brutal place that hid behind lilacs and violets, the true thorns of the beseeching rose, they had exposed their children to the Wizarding society.   Yes, they were slightly prejudiced, but not to half-bloods, or muggleborns, no, they were extremely prejudiced to those without the high culture of the Wizarding world.  That meant Harry.  Harry didn't know the society of the Wizarding world well.  For all Harry knew, he was either the fallen angel or the demented boy who was the scapegoat. 

            Harry didn't parade around his name.  He knew others would hate him for it, deceive him, and lie to him because of it, it was truly Harry's name being used so well that made it easier for Harry to become friends with Ron then the younger Malfoy.  No, Harry didn't regret the decision at all… but he had always wondered what would have happened if he let the Sorting Hat sort him into Slytherin.  Would Ron still have been his friend?  He was sure Hermione and he would've worked something out, but Ron?           

            Well, Harry wouldn't linger on those thoughts.  What really mattered was the day at hand.  Now, the boy-who-lived began to wonder about this decision with Snape.  It seemed like such a good idea!  Then that git demanded him to quit quidditch.  It didn't seem that bad at first, but then he realized that he was actually going to quit it!  Harry cringed at the thought.  Harry knew he was wonderful at quidditch, but he also knew it didn't matter that he was good.  His dreams were at a standstill, close to elimination, until he got rid of Voldemort.  No, Harry didn't want to kill Voldemort, and he was sure there was another way, but it would probably mean him sacrificing himself to salvage Voldemort's soul.  There went Harry's dreams, out with a poof until a death occurred which meant his or Voldemort's death when it came down to it. 

            Then again prophecies were up to interpretation.  Maybe the answer to end this madness was in the prophecy if one found it…oh well.  Harry was making his way down the stairs to his family.  Wait, he could avoid that by making breakfast for everyone, and that was how Lily Potter found her son.  A slim, average height for a male figure wearing dark colors, was stirring a pot of something.  The food smelled delicious, but Lily had to wonder how her son learned how to cook so well.  Right now he was meticulously throwing in onion pieces, which he had already sliced.  The pot sizzled. 

"Harry, how did you learn how to cook?"  Lily tried to start a conversation up with him.

"I taught myself," Harry muttered, attention completely directed to the pot in front of him as he shook in a bit of seasoning salt in it.    He stirred it, taking a spoon to the pot and bringing it to his lips, sipping quickly.  "Needs more flavor," Harry said softly, shuffling through the revamped kitchen.  He seemed to have found what he wanted, getting a bowl, and stirring various items, making a slightly sticky mixture.  He pushed the contents of the bowl into the pot, stirring all the while.  Lily realized she was getting nowhere with the conversation.

"Why did you teach yourself?"  Lily asked, for wasn't it a bit odd that Harry was such a wonderful cook though he could have hired a few chefs? 

            Harry didn't respond, but his grip on the spoon tightened, his pink knuckles becoming white.  This was a hard question for Harry to answer.  What was he going to say, that his aunt made him start learning how to cook when he was small, and he got punished severely if his progress wasn't up to her standards, and now he cooked for them most of the time so he could sneak tidbits to eat?  No, he couldn't say that, so he didn't say anything.

"Okay, we are going nowhere.  I'm your mother, so look at me when I'm talking to you!"  Harry stopped stirring.   "But really, Harry is it that hard for you to forgive James and me?  Or is it because of Cedric?  Please, at least make an effort…"   

At this moment Harry remembered what he thought when dementors were near. His parents screaming, how it haunted him, and now he had so many unanswered questions.  How did he survive the curse?  Was he really supposed to be alive?  And how did they know about Cedric?

"Please stop that!  I can't concentrate, and if you need to ask me anything, go ask my friends, they have told you a lot about me already, haven't they?"  Lily faltered at these words.  Hermione had told a lot about Harry to Davis, and Davis told the family.  Ron was going to tell them everything, but Hermione stopped him.

Harry was hurt.  His secrets, his friends had given out his secrets to strangers?  Yes they were his family, but at the time he didn't even know who they were!  How could they?  Anger welled up in his belly, the only thing keeping him from being sad.  He was going to have a good long talk to them.  Harry proceeded to set up the dining room table, and put the food in the middle of the table.  He started to chop up fruit meticulously, putting peach slices on everyone's plate, off to the side.

"Breakfast is ready!"  Harry said loudly, eyes never leaving his mother's eyes.  She seemed angry but sad. 

Everyone made their way down to the kitchen, at different times, of course.  They were very surprised at the food, but the question, "Who made this?" never left their lips.  An Order meaning had just finished and Tonks had decided to stay for breakfast, if it was alright, as well as McGonagall.  Snape was leaving, but Harry started to say, "Why don't you stay for breakfast, you're looking a bit under the weather."

            Harry's voice was kind, but his eyes were cold.  He was going to get back at this man for taking quidditch away from him no matter what.  To Harry's anger and surprise, Snape, quite coldly, replied with a yes.  Everyone was horrified at this, and immediately Harry knew something was up.  Was that a smirk on Snape's face?

"Harry," McGonagall said softly, "The ban on quidditch has been lifted for you."  Harry's heart sank as she continued, "And with an anonymous vote, you are Gryffindor's new quidditch team captain, if you accept." McGonagall was brimming with pride.

"That's great Harry!"  Hermione said softly.  Everyone at the table, including his family was looking joyful, even, to Harry's horror, Snape.  One thing went through Harry's mind, "That bastard knew!  That's why he stayed!" Harry gritted his teeth.  Quidditch Captain?  Why was everyone making things so hard on him?

"I am sorry Professor McGonagall but I can't be on the Quidditch team.  I have many things I need to attend to, and I won't have time for quidditch, meaning I also can't be captain."   Harry was able to keep a straight face.  He wasn't going to let Snape see him squeal.

            Sirius looked horrified, as well as Ron whose mouth had dropped open.  Everyone was staring at him as if he had grown three other heads. 

"Harry, you'll have enough time for Quidditch! We're so proud of you!  Don't worry, it won't be hard…"

            Harry didn't reply as he picked up a fork and started eating.  He choked down the food, but the breakfast remained quiet, no matter how everyone tried to start up a conversation.  Snape spoke, eyes determinedly set at Harry's green ones.

"Why is it you are so good at cooking, but can't make a decent potion?"  Snape was the first to realize that Harry had made the food.

"I'm not sure, maybe it's because potion making was beaten into me when I was small."  Harry said truthfully, a cynical smile on his face. 

"Ah, the Golden Boy fallen from grace, what a surprise."

"You know," Harry said darkly, "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.  I refused.  I wonder why…"

            Snape apparated away, leaving a note in Harry's lap.  It read

5 a.m. Don't be tardy. Bring a-4, and your wand.  This will be your portkey at that time. 

S.S.

"Harry," Ron yelled, "You never told us the Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin!  You're joking, right?"

            Harry didn't answer, dark eyes convicting the place where Snape had apparated.

"Lately, Harry," Ron continued, "You've been ignoring Hermione and me.  Are you trying to ditch us for your snake friends?  Why didn't you answer our letters?  We wrote to you everyday!  Now you tell Snape things you don't tell us?"  Ron's voice was laced with disgust.  "I really don't understand you!  You are so touchy all the time!  I asked you, just yesterday, how you got that scar on your shoulder!  You didn't even say anything to me.  Harry, Hermione and I are your friends!  We will try to help you, but you have to open up somewhat."  Ron was nearly pleading now.  "Please answer our questions!  That's all we ask for."

"I have a question for you.  Why did you tell them about Cedric?"  It broke Harry's reasonable side to hear Ron so sad.  However, Harry was angry right now, and he was going to extract vengeance.

"I thought they should know as your family."  Harry sighed, Ron was so ignorant sometimes.

"Ron!  They are complete strangers to me.  I'm a private person.  Why did you tell my secrets to strangers?  I didn't even know about it.  I can't have you slip up like this when a war is starting!"  Harry was ranting, but finally he quieted down, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"I got that scar from myself.  It was really an accident; I just panicked when I realized I was… no longer me."  What Harry was trying to say without saying was that he got it when he realized his animagus form was a dementor. 

Ron was confused but thought it had to do with Harry believing Sirius had died. 

"Fine.  Friends?" Ron asked half-heartedly.

"Friends."

            Unfortunately, there is no rest for the weary.  A whole day lay ahead that he had to spend with his family.  Harry, tired from what had happened, made his way to his bedroom and slept, only to realize dreams were not in his control at all.  

_            Harry was in a dark red room.  Voldemort sat on a large, ornate chair, sipping what seemed to be wine.  _

_"Ah…You have decided to see me again."  Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.  "Why have you been avoiding me lately?  Oh well, I have a surprise for you."  Voldemort stepped off the chair, making his way towards Harry.  Harry couldn't move.  Voldemort cupped Harry's chin with his long, thin fingers.  "I _will _break you Harry.  You can't escape me, ever.  We are bound together in Fate and blood.  Those are two of the strongest types of magic.  But my surprise will make life easier for you…just like you always wanted. Voldemort let go of Harry and Harry was pushed to the wall by some invisible magic.  He felt his DNA being picked up, his body becoming fragments, being pulled away.  Part of him was being erased.  Harry tried to scream, but the noise was too deafening._

_"You can't erase me!  You can't erase him!  Please don't..."  All the torture stopped, and Harry fell limply to the ground._

_"Oh, young Harry… There are things much worse than death; you shouldn't have tried to avoid me!" Voldemort laughed._

            Hermione and Davis were escaping to an empty room to be alone.  That is when Harry saw him. 

"Harry?" she called to the boy.  His skin was cold.  She shook him. "Harry!  Wake up!  Wake up!" 

"Stop," Davis said, taking Hermione away from Harry.  "Let's get Dumbledore."

          Harry woke up. 

"Where am I?" he asked.  The Hogwarts' nurse stood over him.

"You are at Hogwarts, dear."  Hermione, Ron, and Remus were the first to come in.

"Oh, Harry!  I thought you were dead."  She leaned down to hug him, but he pushed her away.

"Who are you?"  Harry asked, eyes darkening at her.  "Who are all of you?"

Please Review.  A nasty cliffhanger I gave you.  Oh, what is wrong with Harry?  That is left for you to ponder until I updater… don't give up on this story until you find out what's wrong with him in the next chapter.  Also, what is the name of the school nurse?  Madam ????  


	5. A Blank Slate

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I only own the plot and the poetry in this fanfiction. This was made for nonprofit purposes.  
  
A Blank Slate  
  
I was walking way too far  
  
And that's when I saw myself  
  
Walking on the verge of death  
  
Spiraling down, off the cliff  
  
And it scared me  
  
'Cause I never meant to be here  
  
And it wasn't my choice at all  
  
"So give it up," they tell me  
  
"Let yourself fall."  
  
Madam Pomfrey explained that Harry had a temporary memory loss. His family was at lost for words. Unfortunately, they hadn't realized that Harry's life was a deck of cards, and no matter how long you hope for a special card, and you know there is no possible way that all the cards in the deck are bad, you just seem to be picking the bad ones. Never mind that all the cards were bad to begin with. Anyway, this was not what the Potters wanted to hear. Sirius was sitting on his knees at Harry's bed, looking at Harry's sleeping face. Even in sleep, Harry's face held torment.   
  
Hermione and Davis sat silently next to each other. Nathan was looking at Harry in disgust. Nathan was always the oldest, that is before he knew Harry existed. Nathan was terribly protective; his younger siblings might as well have been his children. Yes, Davis was fifteen too, they were actually twins, but Nathan had always taken the title "big brother." The twins looked like each other, but no where near identical twins. Somehow or another Nathan was always the most mature, the "cool" older brother.   
  
Then Harry existed. Harry was older than him, but obviously a disgrace; to put his family through only trouble after all they sacrificed for him. This was ludicrous, in the mind of one Nathan Potter. A resolute expression never left Nathan's face. This boy (yes, he was calling him a boy) was not taking his place after all Nathan had sacrificed.   
  
A soft shuffle past through the room as Harry awoke. His face was pale, but angry. The unholy light of Avada Kedavra shone in his matching green eyes. A silent shiver went down Lena's back. The youngest Potter and only girl (she was thirteen) couldn't believe she had ever compared Harry's eyes to her mother's eyes. Lily had soft emerald eyes, glowing with a never-ending love. Harry's eyes, however, were the light of death. It was the light of the deepest darkness of all, a light that in itself was the love that had turned ripe with pure black hate, the power to kill with a magic that manipulated the own caster by taking part of the caster's soul and afflicting the caster's tendencies to magnify the ones needed to complete the spells.   
  
"Where's Snape?" Harry said softly, in what would be considered as a way completely unlike that of the boy-who-lived.  
  
"Why do you want to see him?" Sirius countered. Sometimes Harry made him so angry. Who cares if Harry scared everyone who loves him half-to-death, no, Harry wants no one who has been worried sick about him all day. Harry wants to talk to Snivellus. This train of thought for Sirius was nothing good.  
  
Unfortunately, Harry being exactly the person he is, Harry had left the room so quickly no one noticed until he was gone.   
  
The hallways to the dungeons were dark. The floor was more slippery, Harry noticed since he wasn't wearing any shoes. Harry blindly clutched at the walls; the torches provided only a dim sense that there just might be some light there. He was almost there. This is when Harry fell, tripping over his own unsteady feet. A hopeless cause this was. To find Snape's private rooms, what was the chance of that? Harry needed to be there though. Why? The answer was simple enough. This time, Snape was terribly hurt from the meeting. Knowing Snape, he wouldn't go to the nurse, and even if he did, he'd leave as soon as he'd see Sirius and the others.  
  
Harry sighed. Sometimes Harry was sure being a Gryffindor damned him to a terrible fate. Look at Peter Pettigrew. His fate was sealed with him deciding to be a Gryffindor instead of whatever house that would have suited his cowardly ways. Peter had lived a half-life, finding no friends but stronger people, people who he could hide behind. Now he served the Dark Lord, kissing the monster's robes. The first failed Marauder.  
  
Then there was Remus Lupin. He had also chosen bad friends. Okay, Harry loved Sirius in a detached sense after what happened, but because Remus chose Gryffindor friends, friends who had found out his secret and used him in such a terrible way, he was the way he was. If Remus Lupin opposed anything his friends might be doing, he'd just laugh with them but wouldn't stop them. No, he'd never stop them; no matter how they could have been the reason Severus Snape had become a Deatheater. He let them use him! They had used his weakness, and betrayed him. Had they ever asked how Remus felt about what had happened with Snape and the Shrieking Shack? How could they do that when Remus had no control over himself? How could they use their "friend" in such a cruel way?  
  
Ah... Sirius was next. He was in Azkaban because his Gryffindor way of trusting his friends. Hadn't Sirius suspected that it was Remus who was betraying them when Lily and James were hiding? No one suspected Wormtail. Sirius was the perfect Gryffindor of these days. Foolhardy, even able to evil if convinced that it was right of justice. James was next. What did Harry know of James? Matchbox pictures floated through Harry's head. Then he thought of Severus' pensieve. He didn't know what to think of that. Was that disgust, horror in his heart?  
  
No, it couldn't be! No emotion filled his heart when he thought of James', except hurt that he had done what he did instead of being mature. By now, Harry was stroking the cold stone floor. His finger felt a hole. If he looked at it in what little light the torches held, it seemed to be an "S." Should he give it a try? Harry spoke the word "open", fixing an image of a snake in his mind. The stones shuffled, one nearly crushing his foot. Scrambling through the hole now, Harry gasped at what he saw. It was a room, a dark green room. Slytherin's name was written above the bed. Harry read the words engraved on the wall, noticing absently that it was Parseltongue.   
  
Mine heir, you will witness this room. If not given unto my heir, thou must be more a part of me than my heir. This room is towards you; all my works and makings are for you...use them well and remember the promise. You are the only one who has ever been here. If you were a second, there would be nothing to find in here. On the finger that fits wear this ring in my honor, and I will show you the ends of the world. Welcome to the beginning of the true revolution...for it is to I that you belong to.  
  
Harry shivered. He was Slytherin's heir? It was a lie, Voldemort was. But that ring, that silver ring, plated in opal... It had runes inscribed on its sides but obsidian lay placed on the band, with a small insignia in the stone in blood red. Harry tried the ring on all his fingers. It didn't fit. Then he realized with horror that it only fit on his left hand on his ring finger. Harry was revolted, but an echo seemed to fill his ears, "For it is I that you belong to."   
  
Harry wanted out, and he wanted out now. Somehow he knew that he was going to end up coming here more often than anywhere else. It was the only way he could defeat Lord Voldemort. Harry's heart betrayed him once more, for he had fallen in love with the beautiful room. Harry stroked the fabric on the beautiful sofa and stared at his surroundings for awhile. He wondered if Dumbledore knew. That old man was not going to take this away from him, this is all he could call his own. "Dumbledore, you must never find out," Harry whispered, stroking his ring.   
  
Harry whispered, "I need to leave," in parseltongue to the room, and suddenly he was curled up on the cold, rancid hallways again. He heard steps. Was it just him, or did everything seem to vaporize and get sucked up into the floors where they echoed on for minutes? Harry stood up, searching instinctively for his wand. It was gone. In a panic, he sidled away from his position, trying to run away. He tripped.   
  
"Potter?" A voice murmured in the dark. Was it Snape? He would take his chances, for he was starting to lose patience.   
  
"Snape?" The dark figure turned out to reveal what some students would call an overgrown bat. Harry noted that Snape was limping and his mouth was set in a stern line, sallow skin wet with sweat.  
  
"Um... when do you want me to come by?" Harry said awkwardly, trying to figure out what he should say to the man who had went through much torture because Lord Voldemort was in a bad mood.  
  
"In two days, same time. I'll write you before then to give you more instructions."  
  
"Does the...does Lord Voldemort always act that way when he's in a bad mood."  
  
"Potter!" Snape barked, "You shall call him the Dark Lord until you have mastered Occlumency. Your naiveté never ceases to surprise me. I talked this over with Dumbledore, and he agrees." Snape noticed to his satisfaction that the Golden Boy was at lost for words. If only he could denounce points before school started up again.  
  
"Stop gawking. It is not only impolite but distasteful. Besides," Snape allowed himself to smirk, "You agreed to my terms, and it was your decision."  
  
"Yes." Harry said calmly, trying not to let his rage spill through. He had come down here to see if Snape was alright, but instead got chewed up and spit out when talking to the man. Harry knew today was going to be a long, long, day.  
  
(---) (---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)  
  
Little did Harry know that Snape alerted Dumbledore that Harry was in the dungeons. Sulking, Snape was walking him back to the crazed mediwitch who called herself Madam Pomfrey. Everyone stared at him in disbelief. Okay, so maybe he did look a little worse for wear. That was a serious understatement. Harry's hair was soaked, and falling limply past his shoulders in thick clumps. His robes were wet on the ends and a thin film of dirt and dust adorned all his clothes. His glasses (no one knows how) remained intact. The interrogation began.  
  
"What happened to make you lose your memory?"  
  
"V-" Harry glanced at Snape, "The Dark Lord wasn't happy that I was 'ignoring' him. Of course, he decided that a punishment was in order and he saw fit to show me what he was capable of. That was all a demonstration." Harry said in a practiced voice. Hermione frowned. Didn't only Deatheaters call Voldemort the Dark Lord?  
  
"Severus, are you resuming Occlumency sessions with Harry?" Dumbledore addressed Professor Snape.  
  
"We've discussed it and, yes, Albus, we will resume them." Dumbledore's eyes started to twinkle again.  
  
"May I leave now?" Harry asked. Albus Dumbledore nodded, smiling. "You can floo back to Headquarters." Dumbledore's smile turned into frown.  
  
"Wait, Harry, where did you get that ring?"  
  
"I don't see why that is any concern of yours." Harry growled, glaring at Dumbledore.  
  
"Harry! Show respect to Dumbledore." Lily demanded.  
  
"I'm giving him all the respect he deserves. He can stay the hell out of my personal life!"  
  
"The runes on your ring, Harry, those are the runes of destruction, chaos, devastation, death, and a few I can't understand. Salazar Slytherin's insignia is on it as well." Dumbledore's eyes darkened.  
  
"What do you expect?"   
  
"I will not assume."   
  
"You have assumed already. So what are your assumptions?"  
  
"You have taken a present from Tom."  
  
"No, I'd never do that."  
  
"An engagement ring? Whom are you engaged to?"   
  
"A personal matter, actually, and now I must leave."   
  
Harry grabbed the floo powder, threw it in the fireplace and shouted "Grimmauld Place!"   
  
"Everyone," Dumbledore said softly, "Please tell me I haven't lost him."  
  
"You haven't," muttered Snape silkily, "He is not enamored in Dark Arts, and he stands to serve what he believes is right, like all Gryffindors. Let him play with rings...it won't matter."  
  
"But you see Severus, the Hat wanted to sort him in Slytherin. Even today, the Hat wants so much to sort him in his rightful House." Snape's rhythmic façade was broken for a second but only for a second.   
  
Like a blank slate  
  
Everything is new to me again  
  
And I don't like it anymore  
  
The vines rip flesh when it may pour  
  
But I have fallen, fallen, fallen...  
  
Author Notes: Thanks to Draka-Nova, for I updated sooner because of you. This chapter is dedicated to DarkLights. Sorry shadwmage7... your chapter will be next. When I finished this one I realized I didn't mention anything about money. Thanks much to Draka-Nova; I truly appreciate your kind review. OH! I wrote the poetry, so I hope it wasn't terrible. Love you all, my dear reviewers! I'm sorry for the wait.  
  
-Verdesilath 


	6. Ring Around The Rosy

_Ring around the Rosy_

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I only own the plot and the poetry in this fanfiction and my original characters, Lena, Davis, Nathan, and Alexander. This was made for nonprofit purposes.

Do you know how scary it was?

Those ignorant children

Singing about humanity's timely demise

Ignorant of what the words meant

But when the children sing

All I hear is

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Only if they knew how right they were

In the end we all fall down.

            Harry sat on the ground in his room for awhile.  He was sick of them all.  He was sick of it all.  He hated being what they wanted him to be.  He hated himself.  He hated that disgusting reflection in the mirror, those green eyes hungry with want of approval.  He clawed at his skin, but his fingers were even and short.  Only dark pink lines across his skin remained from the scratching. 

            He wanted to have fun.  That was all he was asking; to have fun.  Slowly, he lay down on the floor, face staring at the ceiling.  The ring glimmered in the light.  That ring… it had pushed him deeper in this twisted game.  He was stuck here.  Harry stretched.  What was he going to do now?  He was so tired of it all… He was tired of the mind games.  He was going to die anyway.  Harry stood up, picked up a bunch of the cold floo powder.  He whispered, "Diagon Alley," but not before arming himself with a wand.

            He saw dark eyes stare into his.  Gray eyes with silver eyelashes.  An angel, one might say. Then Harry heard the cold voice, "Potter… not that safe at all, it turns out.  Where are your friends to protect you now?  And I wasn't kidding when I threatened you… You of all people should know that Malfoys don't play."  A smirk washed over the previously angelic features.  Now, if Harry was in his right state of mind he might have said, "Sod off, Malfoy."  However, Harry, being in his own state of mind just blankly stared at the Slytherin.

"Damn it, Potter!  All you are doing is staring at me like I'm not even there.  Perfect Potter won't fight without the weasel and mudblood, eh?"  He pushed the boy-who-lived against a brick wall.  The crowds were so thick, probably because it was Saturday, so no one noticed. 

"You're going to pretend like you didn't get my father put in Azkaban, you're going act all innocent and dumb because you can get away with it." Harry's arms were bruised now, and his eyes cloudy with pain.  "Stupid! Why won't you fight, why won't you say anything?  Why?  Why are you so damningly perfect?  Why do you always get what you want?"  Malfoy loosened his grip on Harry, tears in his eyes that would never shed.  Obviously, Malfoy was having a few problems at home.   

            Harry watched detachedly as his enemy buried his face in   Harry's black cloak, sobbing perhaps.  Harry wondered where the spark of life in him went.  Was it wrong to be so distant to the world around him?  No, not distant, all too aware of the world.  Suddenly Malfoy's body became taut against his.  It seemed that Malfoy just realized what he was doing.  Wiping his eyes, he roughly pushed Harry against the wall. 

"I still hate you." Malfoy said quietly, stormy eyes glaring into laughing green ones.  "That's funny Malfoy, because I never hated you.  I simply dislike you and your tendencies."

"You aren't going to tell anyone about this."  Malfoy whispered.

"Tell everyone what?  That I let you cry all over me, let you beat me up?"  Malfoy glared at him one more time before briskly walking past Harry. 

            Harry brushed off his shoulders, adjusting his cloak to cover the bruises on his arms.  Harry continued on walking as if nothing happened.  Finally he found what he was looking for.  Madame Claudett's, an expensive clothing store, was Harry's destination.  He picked out gray cloaks, green button up shirts, boots, black and red fire-silk shirts, dark slacks that flowed smoothly, and many others.  The sum of the money was over 500 galleons, but well worth it in Harry's mind.  He needed to make a new image of himself. 

            Secondly, Harry went to Sphinx Scripts, a store selling books.  Harry bought twenty of them, fifteen being on Dark Arts theory, three of them being fairy-tales so Harry would get to know Wizarding culture better, and two on various spells and dueling.  Finally done with shopping, Harry bunched up some floo and called it out from a beaten up fireplace in a rundown Wizarding equivalent of drugstore.    
            Then he was alone in that big, ancient house again.  The house meant for the Blacks.  The woman in the portrait was no longer screaming, only watching him with a curious expression. 

"You and your kind have lied to me.  The filthy mudblood who can't even make herself look presentable, the one slightly resembling a bush, that hair is despicable, and she should definitely grow it longer… she said to me that that stupid male, born of my blood, was dead.  Then I see him, more rambunctious and worse than ever.  Here you are alone.  Have you decided to carry on my line in place of Sirius?  Are you ready to do the rituals?  I see you are wearing Slytherin's ring.  I know of his words for I've read his works.  He wrote about making such ring and engaging his match to himself, binding them.  He was to be resurrected to live with his match, at whatever time or so.  I'd be proud to have you as my heir.  But, young one, don't romance with others.  You are _his _and I wouldn't want anyone to experience what might happen if you toy with this bond.  This ring… it is dark magic.  It is blood magic, part of the Soul Arts, the Arts in which a person's soul is used in casting.  Fear the world, they won't accept you.  What will your friends do when they witness your animagus form?  I have seen you change that one time you were here.  Beware…"

            Unbeknownst to Harry, Dumbledore and his family and friends had come in the middle of the speech, at the part where it was stated that the ring was dark magic.  Dumbledore was angry.  He cast some spells on Harry before Harry could react and shoved a potion down Harry's throat. Veritaserum.  Harry's eyes widened as he realized what was going on.  He tried to scream, but the liquid only slid quicker down his throat.  In panic, Harry tried to shove Dumbledore away, but when that failed, Harry did the only thing he could do.  He opened his mind to Voldemort's, completely, and pleaded for help.  Later on, Harry would come to regret this choice of action completely and fully.   

            Voldemort was curious at their link opened completely and the plea accompanying it, then decided it was time to mess with their minds.

Hermione was shocked at what was happening.  Harry accepted a Dark Arts ring as an engagement ring from someone?  She shivered.  Harry was always a good friend, but this?  Had he lost his mind?  How could he be so thoughtless, so silly and petty at a time when caution was needed the most?  Going to Diagon Alley (word went around fast) with no guards and none of the Order members even _knowing_?  That was so stupid of him! Now Dumbledore had shoved a potion down Harry's throat.  His eyes grew wide with horror and anxiety, green pools unguarded for a second. 

For that second, Hermione saw her old friend.  So much pain showed in those kaleidoscopic pools.  Then his eyes shut, and his body sagged. His eyes opened with new vigor, only they were bright ruby with no pupils. His eye sockets opened to reveal pure red eyes, no white part at all.  An echoing voice, dark in nature, erupted from Harry's mouth, but it wasn't Harry's voice.

"I'm curious," the voice said softly, "What would make your Golden Boy become so horrified as to plea for my help."  Dumbledore responded by raising his wand.

"Tom, leave this boy's mind.  You have no place there." Dumbledore said coldly.  Hysteria was reflected in all others at the house's eyes.

"Why, Dumbledore, he asked for me to be here.  You gave him veritaserum, and in response he let me into his mind.  Really, Dumbledore, have you sunk so low as to use veritaserum on someone who hasn't done anything?  It's illegal used in that way.  Poor, young, Harry never treated as a human and tricked into thinking that being treated at a tool was okay.  I think I'll stay here until this potion wears off.  Oh, he'll hate you so much now, Albus.  Even his friends treat him as if he isn't worth the dirt on their shoes.  And now, I see something!  Is this the _Potter _family?  James and Lily and children… I can see what happened now.  You call yourself the parents of dear Harry," Everyone shivered when he spoke Harry, "And yet you know nothing about him.  For instance, when Dementors are near him, you know what he hears?  Your dying screams, funny I think, and you've been living so well.  And Sirius, I see is alive.  Oh, Harry must feel _so _betrayed!  Who knows, Albus, he just might join me! You are pushing him towards me with the neglect and emotional abuse he suffered at the Dursleys at such a young age…"

            At this point Voldemort seemed to be mocking Dumbledore.  James was disgusted that his _son_ would plea to this… this thing!  It was evil that his son even thought of talking to this wretched thing through their link.  His son was revolting.  He looked so much like James, yet he was so wrong.  Everything Harry did was wrong, the way he treated Sirius was wrong, and the complete lack of acknowledgement of his siblings and Lily was wrong.  

            Yet still, how could this being, Voldemort, say that Harry suffered neglect and emotional abuse?  It didn't make any sense in the mind of one James Potter.  Everything about Harry had no answers.  This is what frustrated James to no end, that his flesh and blood was so unreal, so enigmatic.

"Well, I must leave now… the potion has gone through its course.  Just remember to tell Harry that I said thanks."

            Harry's eyelids closed and his body fell limp.  This time, though, green eyes opened to see flushed and angry faces.

"How could you, Harry?" his sister by blood, Lena, said softly.  Lena had been walking a tightrope lately, with the complete lack of attention from her parents who were always busy with their friends or Harry.  Everything was about Harry. Now Harry had betrayed them, yet no one spoke a word against him.  Harry got away with everything.

"Now Voldemort knows we exist.  You have put our lives in danger, you selfish twit!  How could you?  Now that evil wizard knows everything, all because of you and your petty self!  That potion wasn't veritaserum; it was carpeserum, a serum used to calm people by keeping their mind in a true aspect.  This potion is rarely known and seems like veritaserum in many aspects, meaning coloring, scent and other physical aspects.  It is veritaserum made in a gold cauldron, a more sensitive type than pewter, so the components react differently. What was the gain in that, Boy Who Lived?  Do you want everyone else around you to die?  Why do you exist?  Remember you told our parents that they should've died?  You should've died!  You smell like _him_, you smell like death!  See what you've caused?"

            Harry was being torn from the inside out.  Was it really true; was he so dumb and selfish that his reckless actions had caused all this?  It could be.  He didn't know.  All he knew was that he was so scared of his thoughts and emotions being naked to the world so they could probe and analyze and control him.  He didn't have time to think; he could only act.  Now another one hated him.  Everyone was watching him so he spoke.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know."

"Harry, I won't say that everything will be okay, but do you even trust us anymore?"  Remus asked calm eyes suddenly violent with emotion.

"Only as much as I can, but yes, I do trust you." 

"We'll be here for you Harry, but you have to stop being so suspicious of us.  We're your friends!"  Hermione gasped out, eyes teary.  Unfortunately, Harry had a bad memory involving the phrase, "We're your friends," and it surfaced to his mind.

"That's what they all say.  They always say that right before they use you again.  They don't give a damn.  They use you again and leave you alone again and you believe them every time until this time they've sold something very important to you and then all their words are lies and you grasp but you can't catch them and everything's gone, like it never happened."   Harry said, eyes darkening.

"What do you mean by that?" Sirius asked, startled.

"Nothing, it's nothing.  I don't even know why I said that, it wasn't my memory… it must have been the Dark Lord's." 

"How long has the sharing of memories been going on?" Dumbledore asked wearily.

"I guess for about a month," Harry blushed, "I thought you'd think I was delusional and send me straight to the psychiatric ward of some hospital."

"You will definitely need to start working on your Occlumency.  The link will never be closed, since blood magic binds you to him as well as the Soul Arts.  However, the manipulation of your mind shouldn't happen, and many benefits will come from that."

"Why does he need to take Occlumency anyway?" Davis asked.  Silence reigned and Davis was never answered.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, blue eyes sparkling devilishly, "Since Voldemort knows of this place, you will take residence at Hogwarts, with the rest of you.  Harry you will be staying in Snape's quarters in which you will be able to train.  Hermione, Ron, and Ginny will stay in their normal quarters in Gryffindor with Lena, Davis, Alexander, and Nathan.  The Potters will be shown to their rooms, where Remus and Sirius will stay."

            There was a large outburst.  Lots of shouts and happiness went through the room.  "Harry can't stay in Snivellus's quarters!"  James and Sirius yelled at the same time.

"Harry needs the training.  Severus will agree when I tell him of the circumstances.  Besides, it is Harry's decision for it is he who will have to suffer the consequences if he doesn't get this training.  It will be he who will suffer the pain and instability, and he will bleed for your bad decision because of a bias and bitter but childish grudge." 

"What do you say Harry?" the two asked at the same time.

"I agree.  I will stay in his quarters if he allows it so."  Sirius was outraged.

"Have you brainwashed him, Albus?  He is not the same person that I last saw in the Ministry of Magic!"  His face was turning a deep red.  Neither Harry nor Dumbledore responded.  Dumbledore told them to pack up their things, but Order meetings will still be held there, in the dungeons of Grimmauld Place. 

            Everyone rushed to pack up, Harry the most distant of all.  "No matter how I try to fit in, they just don't understand!  I guess this is how it will be forever, whenever that will end for me.  I don't know why I do the things I do, so how can I explain it to them."  Bitterly, Harry packed his things, remembering to add the things he just bought.  That left him to wonder, "Ron, Hermione, where's Hedwig?" he called out. 

"I thought you had her, mate," Ron called from his room.  Harry rubbed his scar on his forehead absentmindedly, and then stared at the scar on his hand reading, "I will not tell lies." Harry groaned.  This was _not_ good.  He smiled though, before his eyes saw the ring on his finger.  He knew what he had to do.

            As soon as they were at Hogwarts, Harry disappeared for awhile.   He came back with a large bag levitating on its own.  Harry had taken everything out of Slytherin's room, well actually his room, and put it in the bag.  All of the books and everything else in the room, even a tiny glass jar that seemed relatively normal, was put it the bag with care.  The room was stripped bare.  With a large smile, Harry took off the ring on his finger and threw it in the fire.  The fire had been touched with his wand, and the phoenix feather in the wand repelled the dark object and changed the fire.  The ring melted, and screams were heard far and wide. All that was left was ashes, and the ashes were thrown in the lake near the Whomping Willow later that day. 

Harry smiled, jogging over to Hermione and Ron.

He belonged to no one.

            Hermione and Ron were frowning.  Harry had disappeared again, this time coming back with a scratch on his arm.  And where did Harry get those bruises on his arms?  Harry ignored the pain in his scar.  He would be spending most of his time with Snape now (winces) but at least tonight he could remember why he was friends with them. 

This chapter was on the lighter side I think, less angst.  I'm sorry it took so long to update, I was helping to put together something for school, but now my school year is over.  I'll probably be updating more often.

-Verdesilath


	7. Death of Aphrodite

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Miss Panther, whom I am now indebted to. Thank you so much for the wonderful advice! This chapter will be the first of three, making up "Death of Aphrodite", meaning it will be like three parts of one chapter, due to my procrastination. I'll try to let the story flow out more and let the characters personalities shine through. This whole chapter, actually, is mostly about the characters, so a lot of action isn't expected. I admit the plot is quite busy, so I'll slow it down so everything works out. This doesn't mean that relatively nothing will happen in my chapters, it just means that I'm taking time to make the story more advanced and (hopefully) more interesting.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I only own the plot, poetry in this fanfiction, and my original characters, Lena, Davis, Nathan, and Alexander. This was made for nonprofit purposes.

Death of Aphrodite: Preparations 

Aphrodite, the beautiful

Was asked to choose and bless one human thing

She chose friendship, and the children sang her ballads, for with true friendship

They were blessed, so they continued to sing.

Oh, Aphrodite, the beautiful

Blessed love and friendship true,

But with the taint that friendship might take

She slowly started to become sickly and bruise.

Harry rubbed his forehead. He had to go settle down in Snape's quarters today, meaning that he inevitably would be seeing Snape. Slowly, but surely, Harry followed Dobby to Snape's quarters. Dobby had been so excited to see Harry alive and well, though Harry had to wonder why he wouldn't be alive and well, that he jumped up every few seconds, just bubbling with joy.

"Harry Potter, sir, this is where Dumblydore told Dobby to leave you. Wishing you good luck, see, for the man here is frightening, just frightening! Reminds me of my old master he does." Harry noted that Dobby was getting better at saying Dumbledore. Dobby bowed, before disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

Harry waited in front of the blank wall, wondering if Snape was ever going to come out of there to help Harry enter. The wall was blank, and though mildew wasn't growing on the walls, he could easily smell the wetness in the air. He was starting to perspire. Hermione and Ron were probably looking for him. They both seemed to enjoy Alexander's company though. Alexander was what everyone wanted him to be like: a little James, proud in his own right. Snape seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Hurry up, Harry," he said darkly. Harry tried to pretend that Snape hadn't just called him by his first name. Harry was shown to his room, and he began to unpack, but not before hiding his large bag full of Slytherin-touched things in his closet. The room was comfy but held that same odd, wet smell.

"Harry, we need to talk," Harry nearly laughed when he heard that statement. It sounded like Snape and he were in a relationship together and it currently was on the rocks.

"Okay," Harry said as he followed Snape into a room with dark, velvety green carpet. A table was set for two and candles were lit to light the dark room, along with a quick, "Lumos!" from Snape. Harry had a distinct feeling that he was being romanced. He blushed as he sat down.

"What is it?" Snape asked.

"Um…nothing." Harry responded as he fidgeted.

"As you know, you will be staying in my rooms."

"Yes. Excuse me but is there any reason as to why I'm sitting at a table?" Harry asked only to realize the question came out wrong.

"Yes, you are sitting here to eat."

"I thought we were eating in the Great Hall?"

"Not tonight you aren't."

"Oh…"

"There are certain rules we must establish. You will not touch my property without permission from me. Also,"

"What?"

"What are you trying to hide?"

"What do you mean?"

Snape stood up, and pushed Harry back into his room, then opened the closet door with a flourish.

"What's in here?" He said coyly.

"Erm,"

"If you won't tell me anything, this won't work." Harry spun out the long tale of the ring and his room and all of the things in it. Snape bent down to open the bag, so Harry got a glimpse of his hair close up. On impulse, he reached out to finger the strands, only to have Snape snap back with a wand aimed at Harry's throat.

"Watch it," Snape said, a thin smile spreading on his face, "I _have _killed people before."

Harry shivered and sat on his bed watching Snape dig through the bag. He seemed to be having fun examining some potions components. Suddenly Snape stopped. He started to look at Harry in a funny way, as if eager to get something from him. Harry's eyes were full of clouded emotions.

"Harry," Snape started, "Have you ever bled yourself while in your animagus form?"

"No! Why?"

"Dementor's blood has never been collected in its raw form. It would be a useful potion exponent. Who knows, it might cure your beast friend from being a wolf."

"He's not a beast! I don't think I…"

"I'll give you until tomorrow to decide. These items are amazing. We can use a lot of them in your training. I think we should work on Occlumency tonight, before dinner. You might vomit all over my carpet if it's vice versa."

"Fine," Harry said sighing.

It was only at this point that Harry began to realize what a strange man Severus Snape was. He was what someone with lesser vocabulary would call a weirdo. Harry could likeness himself to Snape in one major way that made putting up with the man much easier. No one understood either of them. Harry followed Snape into Snape's private potion's lab. Snape cast the spell before Harry realized what was happening.

Harry pushed him out, but only after a few minutes. "Not good enough," Snape responded softly. He tried again and again and again. Harry was exhausted, lying on the floor gasping. "Slightly better," Snape responded, "That is if your opponent isn't the Dark Lord." Harry, with a burst of anger spoke, "Legilimens!" He saw Snape, younger, probably in fifth year. Harry's father stood above him with knives, stabbing him, blood everywhere. No screams, only James's laughter. Laughing at Snape's pain, laughing, laughing, laughing… Harry pulled himself out of Snape's mind.

Harry ran to the bathroom only to keel over and vomit. "Lies, lies, lies…" Harry said, tears dancing on his face. The blood pooling over the knife stayed in Harry' mind. "It's not true," Harry said softly.

"Harry," Snape said coldly, "This is another reason that you shouldn't intrude my memories. Now that you have, though, I can only say that it was partly accident. Your father was under the influence of Resox. That potion makes one give in to their darker tendencies and wants. Yes, he had control over his actions, but his mind was put in a prejudiced, near-minded state. I couldn't fight back and that is what happened."

"Is that why you took the Mark?"

"That is none of your business!"

"I need to know… I need to know. I promise, you can have some of my animagus form's blood, but I need to know." Harry was laying facedown, hair tumbling over his face.

"Partly, it was. Your father hadn't reached to such an extent of cruelty until he started dating with Lily. I blamed her influence. It seemed to me that she wanted to use him to climb her way up to society, and poisoned his mind even more to sway him her way."

"How can you," Harry's tone was breathless, "How can you talk so calmly about it?"

"Potter," Snape snapped, "I think we've had enough of that for one night. Now can I ask you a question? Just for curiosity's sake, your hair never does grow longer, you don't take potions for that or get it clipped, nor are you using glamourie."

"I thought know one noticed," Harry's muffled response came out as he looked up, "Let me show you why."

Harry fiddled with his hair for a while, taking out all sorts of clips. His hair was less messy, but still thick in quality. It fell to his mid-back.

"Why, oh why, do you go through all that trouble?" Snape asked; eyes completely focused on the boy-who-lived.

"Well, my hair was that short for awhile. Then I went to the Wizarding world and everyone praised me saying I looked just like my father, and how great a person my father was and I wanted to stay that way. So, when my hair grew longer, I pinned it up, casting slight veil charm on my hair to make it look as if my ends weren't pinned up, as if they were cut. I just got so used to it, I forgot my hair wasn't so messy. Well, I guess it's time to break my image."

"Interesting. Harry, your father was under a potion—"

"That does not excuse him. I really don't want to talk about this, or see him."

"You are just prolonging the inevitable. You might not have to," Snape stopped mid-sentence, "Potter!"

Harry watched, amused, as Snape's face paled to a stark white color.

"Get out of my sight!" Snape said suddenly, eyes wild with anger.

"But," Harry tried to speak, confused at what had just changed Snape's mood so suddenly.

"Out, now!"

Harry ran to his room, angrily glaring at his mirror. His reflection mocked him. Snape seemed like a normal person, well nearly normal, and then he did something like that. All that anger and rage was directed to him. He shouldn't have been surprised; Snape always seemed to be able to fit an insult somewhere in anything that resembled a conversation wit Harry.

Harry laughed. It was partly his fault. He had been playing Snape like a fool. The remark about him being his best friend was only to confuse the man even more. This is probably what he deserved for lying to the git. Harry left Snape's quarters, searching for his friends. "Gryffindor Tower," he muttered. He marveled at how inconvenient this situation was. It was wrong and terrible. His friends were having fun in Gryffindor Tower, probably, being _kids_ before the world spat them out and laughed cruelly at their bare bodies. Harry grimaced. What would he tell his friends? Moreover, the question was how much he was going to tell them.

The Fat Lady was mystified at another student. This one didn't know the password.

"Please open up," Harry pleaded. When he realized she wasn't giving in, he rapped on her portrait, yelling, ignoring her angered wails.

"Harry!" Hermione said, her voice filled with glee. She was being carried princess-style by Davis. Harry's eyes darkened.

"Hi Hermione, Davis." He went through the portrait into the common room. Lena spoke first.

"I'm sorry Harry, about what I said, but it's the truth."

"That wasn't the truth. That was your perception of the truth. You plainly said to me that I am a danger to all those around me." Harry stared into her hazel eyes defiantly.

"Harry! Can't you see I'm trying to be nice? Whenever I try to open up to you, you push me away. I'm your sister; is it really that hard to make an effort to get to know me?"

"I'm not sure. Just as you said, we all could've died because of me. I think that is pushing me away from you! I'm just doing what you practically told me to do," Harry smiled softly, "I'm avoiding you. That way I won't endanger you nearly as much, eh?" Lena slapped him hard on his face, leaving a right red mark on his face. Harry had his wand out, more out of instinct than anything.

He lowered it, mind suddenly deciding to bring up Snape's memory of James Potter. Harry, unknowingly, sneered. He was the spawn of that man, shared the same bloodline! Then again, he and the Dark Lord shared the same blood since fourth year. This girl looked a lot like his father. Harry winced. "But I'm not responsible for my father's actions," Harry thought, not realizing he had just spoke his thoughts.

"Harry," Hermione looked to Ron for support, "We need to talk."

"Huh?"

"See! That's what we need to talk about, you zoning off and mumbling odd things, your disappearing acts, and this Snape thing and everything!"

"I have a lot of things on my mind, Hermione, and spent a lot of time alone. It's just odd to start telling _people like you_ my dreams and thoughts, secrets and just regular stuff."

"What do you mean, people like _her_?" Ron asked, ears slightly red.

"He means mudbloods, Ron, people like me!" Hermione burst into tears and ran into another room, Davis following her.

"I didn't mean that, I meant such open, kind people. Sometimes I don't think I deserve your friendship, even if you guys are irritating sometimes."

"Why didn't you say that then? You know how girls are, always jumping to conclusions!" Ron said. Lena sighed, rolling her eyes at Ron's remark.

"Harry, you have major damage control to cover. Mom was talking to her yesterday, and kinda made it seem like she didn't want Hermione to be dating Davis. She was just telling her the risks of having a squib or non-magical children when a half-blood, Davis, and a muggleborn have children. Hermione's been so self-conscious since then, and when you said that, well, you kinda were the straw that broke the camel's back. And for that," Lena was about to slap Harry again but Harry deftly caught her hand and twisted it, pushing down harshly on a prominent vein on her wrist. She wailed, and Harry let go.

"I'd like it if you wouldn't try to hit me again, Ms. Potter," Harry's tone was cold with all the rage and confusion that had come to him after what had happened with Snape.

Harry nodded at the furious Ron (Are you okay, Lena?) and chased after Hermione. He smiled for he had finally found her. Then he saw her. The girl was sobbing into Davis's lap, as he comforted her. Then Nathan walked in, asking what had happened. Deep red hair spiraled down his face as he listened to Davis reply. They were twins, Harry remembered, though not identical.

"You shouldn't listen to him," Nathan spoke softly with a deep voice Harry envied, "He shouldn't matter to a pretty girl like you. Maybe he was a good person once, but from what I've seen since I've known him," Nathan paused to stroke Hermione's hair and gently pull her face upwards to his, ignoring Davis's furious glare, "He's been misusing his friendship with you. You're a wise woman, not a smart child. If he can't accept that, then he was never _really _your friend." He lowered his face as if he was going to kiss her, but he whispered in her ear instead.

Harry couldn't hear whatever Nathan had said, but he noticed Hermione's eyes widened, a tear streaking her face, as she softly spoke "no…" Harry noticed that Nathan's eyes, though the woeful expression, were smiling and focused on _him_. Davis pushed his brother away from Hermione, glaring at him.

"Ms. Granger, what is it?" Hermione's lips moved but she didn't utter a word.

"I hate him! I hate him! How could he?" Hermione burst into sobs. Davis rocked her, humming to her softly. Answers would surely come later.

"Hermione," Harry finally decided to enter the room, "I didn't mean 'people like you' in that way! I meant it as people who were so kind and open with me." Hermione seemed relieved, as if waking from a bad dream, and smiled.

"Wait Hermione," Nathan's deep voice instilled, "He was listening in on our private conversation all that time! He might be just saying this to keep your trust so he can misuse you again! Think, Hermione, dear, sweet, Hermione, you will listen to him after he did and said _that_?" Nathan's voice took a breathy tone when he said "that." Harry knew that whatever "that" was, it was the thing Nathan spoke to her in her ear.

"Harry, please leave," Hermione said softly, "Leave, I said! Leave now!" Her tone became hysterical and angry.

"Did you not hear her, she said to leave. Can't you see that you aren't wanted?" Nathan nearly purred. Davis frowned and stood up, making his way towards Harry.

"Harry," Davis whispered, "Nathan and I really don't get along. Now it seems like he's trying to break Hermione and I up. He's using you as leverage, I think. But understand that Nathan has never lied in his life. Whatever he's got on you, it's true, and he probably used a few things you said and put them together to make something entirely worse. Good luck."

Davis kissed Hermione's forehead and picked her up, taking her away from Nathan. Harry stood, not really understanding what had just happened. Nathan left the room thinking, "All my life, Harry, I was the best older brother. I have found out that I am obviously no competition to the boy-who-lived, no matter how cruel you are to them. I have seen Hermione, and she is a sweet wise woman. You do not deserve her for you taint her existence. I will take away her from you just as you've taken away my sweet sister away from me. Davis, I'm sorry, but it is nothing personal."

Harry walked away, his mind playing a broken chord over and over and over again. The chord was entirely funereal. All Harry could comprehend was that today, two people had yelled at him to leave with rage in their eyes, so he must be a freak just like the Dursleys always said…

She begged the healing gods to tell her what was wrong

They laughed at Aphrodite, goddess so sweet, you see,

For when friendships true were tainted and broken

She knew she would soon cease to be.

So that was the death of great Aphrodite

Humbled by what she had blessed

For friendships torn and tainted did scratch her

Until she bled to death.

Hope you enjoyed! Please Review, for your reviews make updates happen more often, though I will update soon either way. Reviews help me get an idea of how the general readers look upon my fanfic. Miss Panther, if you are reading this, I have change my


	8. DoA: Unveiling

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I only own the plot, poetry in this fanfiction, and my original characters, Lena, Davis, Nathan, and Alexander. This was made for nonprofit purposes. Also, under the title is an excerpt from one of Edgar Allan Poe's pieces, which I do not own (of course.)

Death of Aphrodite: Unveiling

To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I presume, utterly impossible; yet a curiosity to penetrate the mysteries of these awful regions, predominates even over my despair, and will reconcile me to the most hideous aspect of death.

- From _MS. Found in a Bottle_ by Edgar Allan Poe

I had agreed to this before, with Harry, but this morning I told Albus it had to stop. He has called me in this room again. It doesn't look the same; I wonder if he is losing his touch. Oh well, I know I am only distracting myself from the inevitable. He's looking at me now with those eyes so kind and full of light. I hate to want approval from those eyes, yet I do all the same. However, I know I will never get approval from those soft, blue eyes. They are like the ocean, and they give off that same aura of beauty as it sucks you down into its depths, calm the whole time.

"Severus," he starts as if picking up a toy that he had used and broken yet was trying to use again, "You know why I've called you up here."

Yes, I know why he called me here; yet, I hope that it isn't true. That's why I keep coming back, because of that forlorn hope inside of me that wishes maybe it could be different. He's watching me now, studying me. He doesn't even bother with his usual politeness, as if one is a guest in this sugarcoated hell. He is an angel, yet he has doubly condemned to this place. I don't want him to say what I think he'll say, for maybe he's different…

"Headmaster," I say testily, eyes steely and cold, my voice sordid. My body does not deserve my soul, it is dirty with the taint my soul holds. That's why I don't take care of my looks. My fate's preordained from now on, and I know it and he knows it and we all know how it'll end.

"I want you to start up Occlumency lessons with Harry again," he says, tone jovial but concealing a sword he'll call out if I say anything true about _Harry_.

"No," I answer, not even explaining why. I'm tired of this game I play as my life and the lies I must endure to my core to ensure Voldemort feels I believe what he believes. I am scowling again, walking gracefully out the door. Only my speed suggests that this image is belying.

"Stop running away," he says to me, in such a cold tone that I am frozen in my spot. I open my mouth trying to utter the words that will undoubtedly free me, but this situation is all the same, same, same… Now his eyes are full with pity. I hate that look in his eyes. It injures the one thing that keeps my façade up, my pride, and makes me want redemption, forgiveness—things I'll never get—yet I can still hope he will change; that he'll do what I need him to do.

"This has gone on long enough," he says looking me in his eyes, regal, with that phoenix on his shoulder showing no pity to that which has been damned. "Severus. I know it must be hard for you, living your life the way you do, having to do things out of which your normal character would suggest, but this—this is ridiculous! You are an adult, Severus, stop acting like a child!"

I am still, disgusting hair falling over my face, hiding it from view. I know what he's actually saying. He's saying that I am ridiculous, pathetic for trying to change from now on. He is saying what we both know. I am already destined to fall; there is no saving me now. Still, I am searching for approval from him, though I won't show it.

None comes; none ever comes except from that monster that is the Dark Lord. That's why I joined him, silly as it may seem; he was the only one who gave a damn about me and who appreciated me. Have I fallen so far to even believe that façade was true?

Yet here I am, greasy locks over my face, tears slipping down my cheeks. Why am I losing control? Why am I crying? I thought I had gotten past this? I thought I had gotten past this…

"Albus," he knows I can't refuse, as long as that hope remains in my heart, "Please," I could finish the sentence in so many ways though I know I mean "please don't make me let _him_ into my office, please say that I don't have to…" I don't say any of it; I just stop with that plea, a pitiful cry of help from a whelp like me.

"It wasn't Harry's fault; yet I apologize to you. I should've known it wouldn't work out, but Harry is," he hesitates, and I bitterly relish this, for I know what he means already. Harry is everything to him; I am nothing. Harry is Gabriel; I am Lucifer. He is also saying that I am worthless, that I have failed a mission. I have _never _failed a mission. I do not look into his eyes; for he will see my tears, a weakness, and I will see what I know is true in his eyes. Yet maybe, maybe it will be different. I look into crystal clear eyes. My body sags.

It _is _true. He adores the boy and when matters concern Harry, it doesn't matter who stands in the way. To hell and back, he'll go for the boy, to hell and back. He'll see me there and leave me to burn for eternity, and he'll meet my eyes with that same pitying glance.

"What is Harry? He used an Unforgivable, yet you don't care! Albus, look at yourself! That foolish, idiotic, insignificant," I stop, seeing the blade come out from under his soul to defend Harry.

"And you haven't? Yes, I'll have a talk to Harry about this, but I will _not _punish him. I have forgiven you, the one who has killed, but I can't forgive a teenager who was so full of grief and desperation that he did this?" You haven't forgiven me.

"You didn't." I respond conviction in my eyes. He didn't believe me that day, long ago when I said that the Marauders had killed my owl. My owl was everything to me then; my comfort, my only friend, and they had thought it would be funny to test one of their pranks on my owl. They weren't trying to kill the owl, but the owl died when they experimented on it. It hurt me so bad then, yet I must have deserved it, I always do. But my owl! She didn't deserve it! And then I told this man, and he didn't believe me. He took off points from their house, but I was suspended for using a dark curse, the splitting finger curse, for three weeks. He told me I was lucky. He sent me back to that, that place. Glimpses of my mother's empty face still torture me. She was alive, yet like a broken doll. I hated her.

Albus doesn't acknowledge what he did. He just sighs and waits for me to tell him I'll teach Harry.

"Yes." I say. He nods, looking back at me as if I'm some type of sweet he has just tasted and isn't sure if he likes it or not yet. He knows what I'm talking about; I have agreed.

"Are you happy now?" I say bitterly. His eyes cloud over, deciding I deserve this never-ending pain with no avail and without parole.

"I hope that someday you'll understand why I did this," he says to me softly. I am stalking out of his room, making sure my tears are gone.

I don't know why I thought things would be different.

Dumbledore and Voldemort are the same. They both manipulate with your weaknesses and pain, only Dumbledore uses emotional pain and Voldemort uses plots and torture.

I hate them both, yet I know I deserve this wasteland of a life. I know it because Dumbledore is still an angel and Voldemort a demon. I know that because they are the same to me. And me? Well, my fate's preordained. I am still falling, yet no one can save me now. Besides, it's my fault anyway. I deserve everything I get. I'm almost outside, to freedom, or another cage.

"I hope you can forgive me," I hear Dumbledore's parting words. I freeze. What did he say? I _knew_ I deserved this! I turn around and sit back down. He must have known I was going to come back. Then why are their tears dripping down his face? Fawkes is giving me an odd look, for he knows what I know. For the first time in my life, the phoenix is crying over me, trying to heal my soul, instead of glaring and hissing at me. And do you know what I do? I just sit there, knowing that Albus and I had a lot to talk about. Yet still, I hate him. I hate him for realizing and understanding but still treating me like what I am; for he knows that Harry isn't the foolish and idiotic one, it is I.

Sleep (A look towards Hermione's way)

I have always been me. I have always wanted knowledge. I still haven't found my purpose, and I'm starting to feel worthless. It's because I've lied to myself. Davis is a wonderful charming guy, handsome, smart, rich, and high in the wizarding status board. He is everything any girl would want. Yet, I am starting to have doubts. I mean, everything made since until I started dating him. Then Ron started arguing with me over the pettiest things, I mean seriously, the nerve of him!

I was sure things would get better when Harry would meet his family. I should've known that things wouldn't work out well; they never do for Harry. I think I need to visit the library. I have a hunch that if I look for the runes for… I don't know who I'm kidding; obviously not myself. The answer is in no book in this world, but I can trick myself into believing this. Through thick and thin, Ron, Harry, and I made it. Ron's so distant now, and Harry is moody and losing his temper all the time. He seems to be hiding too many secrets from Ron and me. I think he is depressed.

Everything bad is happening. He must be mutilating himself! Bruises appearing where none were, along with cuts, which are not a good sign. I feel a need to figure out what is so wrong with Harry. Or… Suddenly it made since. Professor Snape was abusing Harry. It was outlandish at first, but it started to make since. Why else would he start being submissive to the man he hated and start to never question if Snape is wrong? It only made since. I have to go check the library though, because there are still different possibilities. Yet, I think I might be right on this one. I wonder what everyone will say when they realize what I am learning.

I can't help but be so emotional. Too many things I can't control are happening to my life. Like this thing on how I was sure I loved Davis, yet now I have a crush on Ron. Maybe it's because Davis is perfect, too perfect for me. Oh well, it shouldn't bother me, or at least not now. But all I can do now is sleep…

(d)(e)(a)(t)(h) (o)(f) (a)(p)(h)(r)(o)(d)(i)(t)(e)

"Do you remember me?"

"Huh?"

"I am what you used to be."

"Excuse me, erm, what are talking about?"

"Why do you want to kill me?"

"This is really all a misunderstanding…"

"You have killed me without regret or sympathy, cruel of you."

"What? I _still_ don't understand…"

Harry woke up. He had been having odd dreams lately, dreams with knives and blood, dreams with ache and darkness, dreams, overall, in which he was not his self. He turned his head, only to see the deep green walls. For a second, panic overtook him, and he jumped up, fumbling for his glasses and wand. Then he realized where he was. He was in Snape's rooms. Harry calmed down, rubbing his scar out of habit. Now that he was in his right mind again, he had to wonder what that thing with Malfoy was about. Right now at least, he could come up with no reasonable explanations, so he gave up. Then he remembered Hermione's eyes when she was crying. Those pools of intelligence were now lost. Hermione never looked like that. All of that, that whole event, had screwed with his mind. Even now he didn't know what to do. Oh well, maybe a walk would do him good.

"Harry…" he heard a soft voice, only to see his mother. Trying not to lose his temper (it was her fault that Hermione was like that in the first place) he said calmly,

"Yes mother?" She frowned.

"Have you been giving him a hard time?"

"Who's him?"

"Severus Snape."

"Um… well, I don't think so." Harry's mind wandered back to earlier that day when Snape had started yelling at him.

"I know it may be hard, but try to be nicer to him. It is important that you don't go down to the level of someone who may be tormenting you." Harry had to wonder at this point what she was trying to insinuate.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just… well I haven't seen you since you were a baby and I thought it would be a good idea to start instilling in your mind things I should've taught you long ago."

"Er, okay then. Could you please move then?" Harry said awkwardly, trying to move past her. His temper was on an edge.

"You understand, don't you?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course, yeah," Harry said, knowing he had no idea what she was getting at. He hurriedly walked past her to the lake where he had swam in for the TriWizard Tournament.

It didn't make any sense that he had to suffer for everyone else. It didn't make sense that he, the hero, was crying alone near a lake, dipping his fingers in the cool water. It was too much for him. It wasn't fair that he had to kill someone to live. It wasn't fair that he had to train away his youth. It wasn't fair that he was stuck in self-pity and doubt when he should be studying curses and training. It was all because he was weak. And he hated that weakness in him.

Harry heard a noise, like laughing. It was a carefree laugh, a laugh that didn't belong in a war. Harry quickly removed his hands from the water, jumping to hide behind a tree. Who knew who it was, but also, he couldn't let that person see him in all his weakness.

Sirius was laughing with the boy who had introduced himself as Prongs Jr. They were playing a game of cards with…Hagrid? _I'm watching them laugh and play. They are so happy. Wait, what is it that Hagrid is saying?_

"He is so much like James. Harry looks like him, but this one," he paused for effect, "This one is like being with James. Same pres'ence. Dear boy, I hope you too will not become tangled in this war."

_What does he mean by that? Is he saying that I am a lost cause? I'm so tired of this… I'm tired of being what they want me to be only to have them hate me for it. They ask for a hero, I come along. Then I try to save Sirius and... _a flash of Sirius falling gracefully down the veil… _but I can't play this game anymore. Now the Potters are alive, might as well come out with it soon since Voldemort, no, the Dark Lord knows. My family is alive! But now, there is no place for me, they no longer need me to be a shadow of parents, what they want me to be. There is no need for a foolish Gryffindor; none at all. Now the end no longer justifies the means. Now, I no longer am needed except for as a weapon. I am just realizing why Nathan might hate me. I am the oldest, meaning I'll probably inherit most of the Potter fortune and I'll become head of the family. That screws up his plans. Still, can't he see how hard it is on me? _

_ Sirius is laughing in there, happier than I've ever seen him. I never made him that happy; I never could. They did. They made him smile; he probably was only with me for obligation. What am I thinking? Sirius, he loves me. Yeah right. He never said so. Never will. Actually, when I think about it, no one ever told me they loved me. Maybe my friends might have, but I don't think so. _ _I'll kill to save a world in which nobody loves me, only uses me. _

_Look at the boy. I despise him. He is what they wanted me to be, and now he has everything I never will get. He has a family that loves him, a good life where he has never seen death; I could go on for days. You know, it hurts to see Hagrid, the first person who ever gave me a birthday present, and Sirius, the first person I could call a part of my family, happier with that boy than they ever were with me. Thirteen, the boy is. I can't say I despise him. In reality, it is I whom I despise. _

_ Sirius and the boy are leaving. Was his name Alan? Oh, his name is Alexander or so Sirius says when talking to him. I will leave soon, these bushes prick like hell. Probably deserve the pricking. _

_ I have to show the world that I am the best weapon ever. That is my purpose, for they need me for nothing else. To do this, I promise that I'll sacrifice everything to change myself. I don't care if I hate who I become (I already am disgusted with myself) it matters if that person is a good weapon. And the truth is, that's all that ever mattered to begin with._

Harry eventually went back inside to eat dinner with everyone in the Great Hall. He'd have to see his father. Unfortunately for Harry, dinner turned out worst than he thought it would be.

Dumbledore, somewhere in his loss of sanity, had decided that twice a week the staff members would have to eat together in the Great Hall. No one delighted in these occasions except for the Headmaster. Everyone else knew to dread these events. Unfortunately, the Potters, Hermione, and Ron were not exempt from attending this occasion. They, however, didn't know this was a day they would dread forevermore.

Dumbledore, as always, was the first to come. His twinkling eyes hid the fact that he had threatened his staff members rather severely. No one ever came to this dinner late. There was a reason everyone seemed upset when they came to dinner. Unfortunately, our victims didn't know of this yet. Well, actually… Snape told Harry.

"Harry!" Snape called sharply, only to find Harry trying to bush his hair in _his _bathroom. "You know your hair is a lost cause," Snape said pointedly.

"Well, you think it would be better if I unclipped it?"

"Yes, it wouldn't embarrass me as much." Harry glared at him, but took off the spells and clips again. He combed it through, with little experience and a lot of complaints.

"I'm surprised that your hair is not one big knot the way you treat it," Snape commented. Snape seemed to have lost his patience eventually and took the comb away from Harry. He ignored Harry's gasp and rant of anger and started to comb through Harry's hair quickly and efficiently. He pulled it back in a ponytail, but in an odd way. When he was done, Harry gasped when he looked in the mirror. Not only did he look better with his hair like that, he looked less like his father.

"If your so good with hair," Harry started, "Why is yours in such disarray?" Snape smirked.

"Harry, simple-minded as you are, you should know that there are a lot of things that are more important than being fashionable."

"But still! To this extent?"

"Dress yourself, we have to eat with the others in the Great Hall soon."

"What? I thought you said,"

"Quiet yourself! You are not to babble about and disobey me, remember," a soft smile bloomed on his face, a cold smile, "my terms?" Harry frowned but ran into his room, throwing on a black cloak and some black shoes. He came out only to see Snape walking towards him.

"Please tell me you are not wearing that!"

"Well, it looks like I am so,"

"You can't do that! It will show that I am not taking good care of everyone's precious Golden Boy. Come with me." Snape dragged Harry back into Harry's room, and looked through his clothes. He pulled out black slacks, long and smooth, along with a button-up black and red shirt that shimmered. In the light it was a shiny dark red that shimmered, but if he moved slightly black was shown with the red. It was fire silk. Then Snape pulled out a black cloak with green and silver designs on the cuffs, neckline, and ends. The cloak was made out of thestral feathers, flattened smoothed and magicked to be seen at all. Its buttons were made of mother-of-pearl with a crest beaten into them that Snape raised his eyebrows at.

"The Slytherin crest?"

"I'm proud of it," Harry said softly, "For I will not be ashamed of what I am."

"You'll explain later." Snape murmured as he looked for suitable shoes.

"Damn it Harry! Do you only have those grotesque things on your feet? And you risked your life to go to Diagon Alley without getting suitable boots?" Harry squirmed. Snape was an intimidating person. Snape swiftly made his way to his room, pulling out a pair of his own boots.

"What size shoe do you wear?" He asked abruptly. Harry's eyes widened considerably and his ears became beet red and his face gained a slight blush to it.

"Potter?" Snape asked trying to figure out why the sudden change in Harry had happened.

"Um, a size 8 and a half."

Snape murmured a spell and the boots became smaller.

"Here," he said roughly and left the room, closing the door loudly. It took a minute for Harry to realize that Snape had intended no pun. He put on the clothes, listening to the mirror's happy praise. He looked a lot better. He was about to put on the cloak when he saw an envelope in it. He opened it to see parchment.

_Why are you running away from me? You can't escape me. I have forgiven you, but no more of this foolishness will be put up with. If you dare wear my crest, then you will wear this as well._

_Together we will be forevermore,_

_Salazar Slytherin_

A ring fell out the envelope. It was the ring Harry was sure he had destroyed. Growling, he put the ring on his ring finger on his left hand, the only place it fit. He'd discuss a way to destroy it later with Snape. Harry smiled at his overall appearance and put the letter back in the envelope only for it to burst in flames. It became ashes and then disappeared. He walked out his room only to see Snape reading in the drawing room.

"So you make me dress up and you don't?" Harry asked, watching Snape's eyes look up from the book. Harry waited in anticipation for praise only to hear Snape say, "You clean up well," as he went back to reading his book. At this point, Harry had had enough. Harry muttered a "Quelo" spell in which water was brought from a source. Water could not be brought from nothingness unless one was a mage. He pointed his wand at Snape's greasy hair and watched in joy as Snape's hair became soaked.

"Might as well wash it now, eh?" Harry said happily.

"No," Snape responded not looking up from his book. What Snape didn't understand was that Harry would _not _be ignored. Harry growled and used another spell to move Snape's chair with Snape in it to the sink. Snape still read on. Harry ran into his room and got shampoo. Harry proceeded to wash Snape's hair, watching as Snape completely ignored him. He pulled the wet hair in a towel after 10 thorough washings and a conditioner. He cast a slight heat charm (he didn't know how to control the regular heat charm) and waited as Snape's hair dried. Harry then proceeded to comb the hair and was surprised by his work.

Snape's hair was a beautiful shiny sheet. It made his broken nose look less large. Harry would find out later that the terrible condition of Snape's hair was because of potion fumes and bad shampoo. Harry smiled at Snape, waiting for a reaction of some sort. Snape continued to read, turning the page. Harry finally decided he would do anything to get Snape's attention. Nothing worked, not poking, nothing at all. Finally Harry decided pride didn't matter anymore. He closed his eyes and moved in as if to kiss Snape on his lips. Snape's eyes widened and he harshly spoke, "That's enough Potter." Harry burst out laughing and said, "We're late you know." Snape responded with a lot of cursing and finally said, "That's all you had to say to get my attention to begin with you insufferable little brat! And what were you just doing a few seconds ago," his tone became deadly, "Answer me."

"I, um, wanted you to pay attention to me."

"What were you doing?"

"I was, examining your face," Harry laughed shakily.

"I'll let you get away with that," Harry let out a sigh of relief, "For now that is, and that's only because we're late and Dumbledore has a certain task for those who are late."

"What task?"

"Let me get dressed first, wait right here."

Snape came out dressed in a green button-up silk shirt with black slacks and black boots. He had on a black robe with buttons with the Snape crest on it. He glared at Harry but only said, "My hair looks... presentable." It was as close as a thank you as Harry could expect. They walked swiftly to the Great Hall, fifteen minutes late.

"So at last the infamous Severus Snape and the boy-who-lived come to grace us with their presence fashionably late," Dumbledore spoke softly. They both made their way to the staff table where everyone sat, Harry sitting next to Ron and Hermione, and Snape sitting next to Dumbledore and Lupin.

"Your hair," McGonagall spoke, stumbling over the words, "It's…" She never finished the statement.

"What she means is your hair is finally clean. I'd hate to be you, having to clean that filthy, greasy hair. It is work that even house elves aren't fit to do," Sirius said. Harry stopped picking at his food and looked up at Sirius. He looked back at his food.

"I didn't clean my hair." Snape said, starting to eat. Before Sirius could respond to Snape, Remus nudged him towards Harry.

"Harry! You straightened your hair and used a hair growth potion!" Hermione yelled, aghast.

"I didn't." Harry said continuing to play with his food.

"The crest of Slytherin and that ring, who gave you those? It is not allowed to wear another family's crest," Lena said horrified. Harry's fork clattered on his plate.

"I know! I'm neither dumb nor stupid!"

"Then…why?"

"I'm Slytherin's heir! Screw the Dark Lord, Slytherin left me a room and this ring and a lot of promises saying that I am his true heir by magic stronger than blood! Please let me eat in peace," Harry responded, mashing his food with a butcher knife.

"When did you realize this?" Dumbledore asked.

"A few days ago."

"This is unexpected. I need to know the particulars…"

"No."

"It is important that I."

"No! Can't I keep anything to myself? Can anything remain private about my life?'

"This isn't your love life, Harry; this is something that could affect the safety of your family."

"I'm not telling anyone but Snape, and he won't tell you."

"Professor Snape, why him?"

"I owe him it."

"What?"

"A family debt. Since my father won't repay it, by my honor I will!"

"Fine. Tell him then. I trust he will make a good decision about what to do with this knowledge." Dumbledore smiled, and continued to eat.

"Wait! You said that the knowledge could hurt our family! We have a right to know it too."

"It's his choice." Dumbledore responded, sipping from his goblet.

"Besides you are already right up on the Dark Lord's Hit List with me since you _are_ my family. Let's just say the Dark Lord has an unhealthy obsession with me. Next thing that's going to happen is he's going to have a strange attraction to me." Harry smiled.

"It's our lives we're dealing with here, that's not funny!" Alexander said passionately.

"I wasn't joking. Right now the orders are to capture, not kill me. He wants to hurt me but not kill me. To hurt me, you are perfect to torture and kill. You are nothing but pawns in his mind, and I the king to capture."

"You slimy snake! You dare talk of your family like that! It's your fault everyone will know we're alive, that we are no longer safe. It's your fault!"

"It is. It's also a part of being connected to a crazy, powerful Dark wizard in too many ways to count." At this point Alexander had stood up and punched Harry. He took out his wand and used a spell to make Harry turn into a mouse as he bounced him up and down. He turned Harry back into a human, and then was restrained. Harry was giggling, maybe in hysteria.

Snape whispered something to Dumbledore and picked up the giggling boy as he swiftly walked to his rooms. Ron had the nerve to say, "Sorry mate, for not helping you, but you really had it coming." Sirius, Remus, Lily, and James ran up to catch up with Severus.

"We can take care of him you greasy git."

"Sirius, stop being so childish, besides the greasy part doesn't even fit him now." Remus chided Sirius.

"Fine then, Snape, we can take care of him." Sirius muttered.

"I don't think he wants to talk to you after you insulted him." Snape counteracted.

"I didn't insult him!"

"Yes you did," Harry said, "You can put me down, sir," he started to walk swiftly along with Snape, "I washed Snape's hair. Therefore you insulted me by insinuating that my status is lower than a house elve's."

"You _what_?"

"It's okay, Sirius, I didn't take that insult to heart."

"You touched Snivellus's _hair_?"

"Well, yes."

"Why?"

"He wasn't, well it sounds ridiculous now."

"He wasn't what?"

"He wasn't paying attention to me."

"Harry, it is time we get you taken out of his care, I am your mother and I won't let you stay with someone who is neglecting you."

"He's perfectly fine, and by the way, you left me with the Dursleys, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, since I was little."

By this time Harry stopped and turned around saying, "Stay away from me and stop assuming things." This left a confused family and a whole lot of questions with no answers.

"Boy Who Lived, bleed for me. Sacrifice your soul for them. You _are _only a weapon." A voice said in the distance.

Author's note:

Sorry for this chapter's roughness. It was needed though. Please review… (scared of the reviews) Um… if you hate this chapter don't bother reviewing. Well what the heck! I won't argue with any flamers anyway, review all you want. I've learned not to argue with an idiot because they'll bring you down to their level and beat you with experience. Okay, bye! Blows kisses!

-Verdesilath


	9. DoA:Finale

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I only own the plot, poetry in this fanfiction, and my original characters, Lena, Davis, Nathan, and Alexander. This was made for nonprofit purposes.

Author's Notes: Thanks a million times, Serpent Clara! I never knew… Anyway, it was wonderful for you to take time out of your day to point out this grievous error.

Death of Aphrodite

The Ambiguity of Childhood: Finale

_ It scared him. It scared him because this weakness was part of him, and he couldn't make it all right. This weakness would be exposed to everyone tomorrow and even though he felt sure of his abilities, he still held that weakness. If only he could face that weakness by himself… no, everyone would find out about his weakness, his friends included. He felt queasy, heart hurting just thinking about it. He couldn't escape it; he'd have to face it tomorrow no matter how he felt. At loss for words and thoughts, just blank…_

There is an age range for what is considered to be a child in our society. Until one is thirteen, you can be considered a child; hell, you can be considered a child until you're sixteen or eighteen. If you read books from the 1800s and early 1900s it is odd to realize the immaturity of children there in some ways and there maturity and other ways. For instance, dating seems to start much later in their years or maybe authors are painting there world out to be more how they wished it to be. A girl of ten years could become sexually mature and still be treated as she was the year before, but we all know we can't ignore these changes. We can't allow childhood to be defined by a number, an age.

Childhood is an odd balance. As one gets older he or she is allowed more responsibilities and can do the same work as one's mother but can easily still be treated like the dirt on someone's shoes. In many different countries, childhood is constituted by many things. However, some consider that the only true childhood is when you are unable to understand how lucky you are and you are only worried about things like whether you should get the lemon popsicle or the strawberry one, but are allowed to get both in the end.

However, the funny thing is that childhood plays tricks on us. In many ways, we are all still children and don't realize it. And we are so bitter, so welcoming to finally embrace adulthood since we aren't allowed the pleasures of childhood, that we can't realize the truth. Childhood is hard to constitute, but adulthood is even worse. It is only maybe when something happens that you realize that in some ways we are still children. It is too late then, of course, and we must embrace the future and our own faults to become what is truly adult, which in fact is something quite simple. What we define as adult is different in everyone's eyes as we all become what we feel an adult should be; thus a constant, no matter how weak, is needed so one can identify someone as an adult. Thus, age is used.

Harry was in Snape's quarters, shocked at what was happening. After Snape had put up a few spells to make sure no one could hear them, he had started berating him.

"Harry," he said the name with an air of intense dislike, "That _scene_ you made of yourself was not only inappropriate but thoughtless as well."

"But… you saw what happened, you should know that I… hey! Stop treating me like a child! All you do is tell me half-truths and yell at me and I have no privacy all of a sudden! I don't have to explain myself to _you_." At this point Harry was in a state of shock and rage.

"You are right on that one, Mr. Potter. You don't have to explain yourself to me; I understand that your idiocy overrides all rational thought that ever might have been born in your head. They, however, are your family, and as a traditional wizarding family you must explain yourself to them. You say you're not a child. Fine, I will not treat you as such. However, as a wizard who under oath promised to obey me without questions when it comes to training, you must go back there and apologize to everyone and explain yourself. And as you are no longer a child, I should not have to help you explain yourself. Your actions are completely your responsibility anyway." Snape smirked.

Harry wanted to scream at him, rip something, or hide in a closet and never come out, but these options weren't available to him. They _were_ his family. Flashbacks of Alex with Hagrid and Sirius flashed in his mind, as well as Hermione's lost eyes. He'd do this for _them_. Besides, it was probably better this way. They could all have what they wanted. Ron's vision from the Mirror of Erised was coming true. He was already Quidditch Captain and a prefect. Harry's desire had come true, but why did it come like this? Somehow, knowing his parents were alive when he hadn't ever had a real birthday party and had wished he wasn't a freak wasn't a welcoming idea. Yet the past was the past. He could forgive them, but that wouldn't make things right. Nothing could make things right. Harry looked down at his shoes. The rage overcame him all of a sudden and he began yelling,

"How can I apologize to them when they never apologized to me? How could they do this to me? They left me when I needed them the most, I mean couldn't my parents contact me in some way? Sirius spent all the years in Azkaban and still was able to contact me, while they were in the U.S. having the time of their lives and never contacted me. They probably never would have if Sirius hadn't found out about them! And you know what? I hate them more than I hate Voldemort, though he's the cause of all this madness. I hate them because they made me with their love and abused the right of being my parents! I hate them because I loved the images everyone made for me that were my parents only to find out that they didn't die honorably, as everyone said. They took the coward's way out, and I was never protected by my mother's love yet I still was in that prison with the Dursleys! They are in the position to hurt me extremely easily, since I love them, or at least feel obligated to love them, and they hurt me so much… And that incident with my father and you! Is it true that Dumbledore obliviated everyone? Shouldn't my father have been expelled? I just don't know what to believe anymore, and the scariest thing is that I know that if I showed them how I really am they would reject me. All of them!"

Harry's eyes had darkened and potion vials full of liquid burst, some of them eating away the carpet on the floor, steam rising from them. Harry's firsts were clenched tightly, hands becoming a dark red. A vase shattered.

"Harry, stop this nonsense now! This just proves you still are a child. You can't even control your temper!" More glasses shattered. Snape realized quickly that another approach would be needed.

"Harry! You are destroying my potions! If you don't stop soon, your werewolf won't get his Aconitum! You would love that, wouldn't you? He could destroy your whole family for you, along with himself. You'd never have to hate them again; you could remain _pure _from the taint of hate_._" Snape laughed. Harry closed his eyes, grappling to get a hold on his magic.

"I… I'm sorry. I destroyed a lot of your potions, and I'm sorry! But you are wrong, he's not _my_ werewolf. He's James's and Lily's werewolf, mostly Sirius's. He will _never _be mine." Snape stared at him for awhile, before muttering spells to clean up the glass.

"Moricta!" he muttered, watching the stained rugs become clean. Snape and Harry made eye contact for a second, obsidian cutting through the softened Killing curse eyes. Harry's face became one of distinct horror and he move backwards.

"Harry," Snape said softly, "why is it that you are disgusted with your father for doing that to me, when it is I that has murdered countless times?"

"I…" Harry's mouth felt dry, "It was my father's fault you'd end up doing that, anyway."

"That is not true. Even with his influence over the situation, it was I who accepted and took the Dark Mark, and it was my choice. I did it of my free will; I wasn't forced too," He watched Harry shiver and scoot farther away from him, "Any yet, you remain adamant to be angrier with your father who, mind you, doesn't remember it because a side-affect of the potion, than me. You are a strange type, Harry." Snape's black eyes remained steadily looking through Harry's broken emeralds, as if searching to see the soul, as if he was about to…

"No!" Harry yelled, but it was too late. Snape had already attacked his mind with legilimens, searching for something there. Harry saw images of his younger self fighting the basilisk, nearly dying, saw the time when Harry had first came in contact wit the dementors, saw Harry watching Alex with Sirius…

"Stop," Harry said, hyperventilating and becoming hysterical, tear-filled eyes horrified. Snape did stop, watching Harry's next reaction. At first, Harry stared at him with his face practically screaming, "Why?", but then he just stated, "I trusted you."

"That was a part of your training. You trust far too much, it is vital that you understand that anyone could betray your secrets to the world, private person you are." Harry stopped hyperventilating, but was still hysterical.

"You asshole!" Harry finally made out, hiccupping.

"30 points from Gryffindor," Snape replied coolly, "I'd take off more, but as your mental state is quite fragile right now, that must do."

"You just did that because you think I'm getting too attached to you! Well guess what, after that, you can't get rid of me! Compare me to Birrget weeds; I will grow on you and you'll never get rid of me without destroying pieces of your own self!"

Snape was perplexed by this answer, but quickly made Harry clean up. This just proved to him that Harry truly was insane. "Hurry!" He barked out, "You need to apologize immediately to your family." Harry came out of the bathroom looking even more disgruntled. Somberly, Snape took off the spells he had applied to make sure they weren't heard and led Harry out of his quarters. They found everyone still in the Great Hall, obviously waiting for them. Humiliated, Harry went up to his parents and spoke in a monotone voice, "I apologize for my selfish actions," the irony of that statement nearly overcame him as he continued, "I also apologize for avoiding both of you. The first apology applies to my siblings as well."

Lily blinked, and then a wide smile bloomed on her face. "We all forgive you, Harry! We just want to get to know you and someday soon become a true family." These sentiments flew past Harry's ears, as he was (trying to be discreet) trying to see the expression on Snape's face. The all-familiar smirk seemed a bit different without greasy locks strewn in his face. Harry smiled.

Unfortunately, that tiny happening didn't go unnoticed by a distressed Hermione.

"Ron…"

"Yeah?"

"I think Professor Snape's abusing Harry," she whispered softly to him. He snorted.

"Really, Hermione, Snape's a git, but Harry can handle his own. Besides, he'd tell us if that was true."

"Well, look at him! He's leaving right after Professor Snape! Did you see how he smiled when Mrs. Potter accepted his apology?"

"Well, Hermione, he's happy that she accepted it, since the git is obviously rubbing off on him."

"No! He didn't smile until _after_ he saw that Snape approved!"

"Hermione, you've gone barmy."

"Then explain how he got that bruise on his arm and those cuts. The timing is—"

"A coincident."

"_Ron_! The timing is too coincidental to be a coincident!" She sighed, exasperated.

"Ugh…"

"We have to tell,"

"Dumbledore, right?"

"No! We have to tell the Marauders." She smirked.

"Fine, Hermione, but they'll just tell you that you're bonkers."

(d)(e)(a)(t)(h) (o)(f) (a)(p)(h)(r)(o)(d)(i)(t)(e)

Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione. He felt so alone next to them; they kept referring to something he had yet to find out what it was. Maybe he was uncomfortable; that could be it. His head burned with a clouded dizziness. Probably was lack of dinner, yeah, that's what it was. Uh-oh, the people at the table were looking at him again… Lily began to speak.

"Harry, what's your favorite color?"

"Um… I never really thought about it before."

"What do you like to do?"

"I like flying."

"Then why don't you play on the Team?"

"I won't have time, I told you."

"Harry became Seeker in his first year," Hermione interrupted, ignoring Harry's shrug of annoyance. He was so grouchy lately.

"So, what type of birthday parties do you throw? How many people do you invite? What's your favorite theme? Do you like Masquerade Balls?" Lena asked, her eyes full of rapture. She loved birthday parties! Harry must have had wonderful ones, him having pretty much all their old fortune. He was also the Boy-Who-Lived and a Potter, so he must have magnificent ones! She became excited just thinking about it.

"I…" Harry didn't know how to respond to the question, "I never had a birthday party before." Lena looked at him as if he was dumb. What did he mean by that?

"What do you mean? Why haven't you had a birthday party?I mean, even orphans and homeless people have birthday parties, I think." Harry winced at that comment; she was so tactless.

"Oh the lies our parents told us…" Harry muttered, putting a hand on his head. Lena frowned at the comment. Harry really was a piece of work. Unfortunately for Harry, Ron, who had last tact than Lena, answered Lena's bright, questioning eyes.

"The Dudleys didn't let him have birthday parties." Lena was still confused.

"Who are the Dudleys?"

"They would be your aunt and uncle and cousin. Harry, stop kidding, Petunia isn't that bad," Lily answered.

"Can you stop bothering me? I got this buzzing headache and you keep asking me questions only to get angry at my answer or not believe me! Why do I even bother? And Ron, keep your trap closed. That was not your business to tell. Well, let's make it even. I'll just tell your mom about your night excursion with Fred and George." Ron's ears turned pink.

"Harry… you can't compare that to what I told them!"

"Shut up!" Harry head felt like a hot iron was being pressed against it. He felt sick. He felt the rage boil him as he stormed away. He wasn't followed by anyone, so he made his way to the lake outside. The grass near it was nearly pellucid thanks to the water and some strange animals that had a chemical inside of them that reacted to the grass in an odd way. He sat there, head in his hands, muttering to himself.

Meanwhile, Hermione had told the Marauders her suspicions. Though they thought the idea was a bit outlandish, it would explain for a lot of things that they wouldn't want to realize the truth about. Harry had to remain Golden Boy to them.

"Well, I know what we can do," Hermione started off, speaking softly, "We can check the Pensieve I gave him this summer! I suggested he use it for bad memories, so if Snape has abused him, it would be in there!" At first, everyone wasn't sure about this proposition. These worries were quickly pushed aside. If Harry was being abused, they had to know, and, knowing Harry, he probably would hide it from them. They all called a truce, saying, "For Harry's sake." They quickly left the Great Hall, climbing up to Gryffindor Tower. Harry had forgotten to take some of his possessions with him, and the Pensieve was one of them. It was beautiful, but nothing ornate. With one last look at reality, they dove in.

_ Harry was sitting alone in the cupboard. It was dark and small, no light escaping from the locked door. In closer inspection, they noticed Harry who was probably seven at the time, was sitting in his own waste. He looked slightly ashamed, but became panicky. He started to ram at the door, cutting his finger on uneven boards. He continued to ram at it, squealing. He heard footsteps, loud and heavy. The footsteps stopped._

_ Everyone waited for the scene to unfold. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, but by a fat blonde boy to the young Boy-Who-Lived's utmost disappointment. __Dudley__ started whining, punching Harry square in the nose. Harry squealed, yelling for someone to help him, trying to dodge the following blows, but failing. The scene changed._

_ An older Harry was sitting on a cardboard box in his room. Another boy came up to him whispering something unintelligible to Harry. Harry watched the other boy run away. Then he heard a gunshot and blood on the pavement outside. Dead. Like the leaves in autumn, the boy was dead. Harry turned away._

_ The scene blurred to Harry bleeding on the floor, mumbling. He seemed ready and willing to die as a person with a dark silver blonde shock of hair sit next to him. The person suddenly screamed as a knife was plunged through his back. Harry watched the shadow that had killed his friend back away. All he could do was laugh, laugh, laugh…_

_ Harry watched television. He was thirteen, it seemed. Suddenly, he started crying turning outside to see a withered flower. He cried louder when he felt sloppy lips on his. The man seemed to be ready to rape him, and he was close to doing it. Only when they were both naked and Harry raped did Harry go behind the man, hands around his neck as if in adoration. He saw a knife and thrusting it through his stomach, watching as he bled, calling 911, changing and realizing the man had survived a day later. He hated himself. _

Suddenly, everyone was jerked from it with a start. They felt slightly dizzy only to hear a jumble of voices. When their eyes adjusted to the real world, they saw Harry in a state of shock, moving his mouth, but no words coming out. His eyes were green with horror and vindication. His eyebrows were quirked slightly in disbelief. His mouth kept moving, trying to form words, and failing. Dumbledore was the next figure that came clear to the Marauders, Hermione, Ron, and the Potter children who had seen it all as well.

He seemed furious, blue eyes cold in a way they could only get when someone had wronged Harry in the worst way. He looked all of his years but held an aura of power, white bear fanning out in a stately way, hands gripping all of their shoulders. So he was the one who had pulled them out. Snape looked on, eyes calculating and cool as usual. Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"What you all just did was inexcusable. You betrayed someone's trust in you, you violated Harry. Would you like others to know your deepest secrets and worst memories? I could understand if this action was an accident, but obviously you all didn't stumble in and make the same mistake. We'll all talk in my office; this needs to be addressed," Dumbledore's eyes softened, "Harry? Are you okay?" Harry continued to move his lips; eyes as blank and empty as a doll's glass ones. "Severus, what do you think is wrong with Harry? Never in all my years have I…"

"He's in a state of shock. We can't estimate when he'll recover. He might be more aware once in awhile before going back into that state. It all depends on Harry if he ever gets better." Harry tried to talk, successfully speaking, but in a tone of hysteria, "How? How could you do this to me? I thought… You were supposed to be my friends…" How much had they seen? They would reject him now; they always did. He couldn't think straight, he just didn't know what to do.

"Harry, we only did this to get proof that Snape was abusing you!" Hermione pleaded.

"I never abused him. Granger, you abused him more than I will ever, abusing his trust and Gryffindor loyalty," Snape scoffed, "Besides, if I was abusing him and you suspected something, you should've went to Dumbledore instead of those childish beings and the animal." Sirius seemed ready to attack and Ron's ears were turning pink.

"It's not anything big! We're his friends. He should let us see this stuff anyway. Besides, he now he has more questions to answer to us to prove he is what he told us he is," Ron muttered as Lena practically said the same thing only using the word "family" to replace "friends." Harry repeated, "You were supposed to be my friends," over and over as Snape levitated him to the Medical Wing. And you know what? Harry's parents would never be punished as bad as his friends or as bad as Harry would be if the situations were switched even though Harry probably had more things worth hiding. It was all because he was a child.

Took me long enough to realize

That I know not a thing

Don't know a thing about my family and friends

Only thing I know is

That I dislike myself

A lot.

Author's Notes: Sorry if this chapter was sucky. Had to crank it out, camp's been taking up all my time. I have been having some family and personal issues. Er… screw my friends. Where are they when I need them? Telling me how I sound like I'm white, always critiquing me for who I am when I always have accepted their stupid asses. Oh, I could rant all day. I really need a friend who I can trust, who I can tell everything. Well, that's my excuse and if it ain't good enough for you, go to hell. Wait, pretend I never wrote that last thing. I love you all like crazy, so I definitely didn't mean that.

-Verdesilath


	10. Once You Fall aka Short Chapter 10

_Once You Fall_

Disclaimer:  Look at disclaimers at chapter before this.  I only own the plot, my original characters.

            Harry was asleep in a hospital bed.  Dumbledore turned to the family and Snape.

"I have decided that Harry will have to suspend training until the school year.  It will be more work for him, but I've been treating him like a machine.  Harry will stay with his family for the remainder of the summer, in Hogwarts of course.  Severus, you are not to spend any time with Harry."

            Snape didn't ask why he couldn't teach that brat anything and why he couldn't spend time with him.  He knew his Masters too well to ask questions this late in the game.  In the Dark Lord's case, he was psychotic and a nice long "crucio" would shut you up, but in Dumbledore's case, he would talk about nothing and make it sound like something but his real reason for doing this would remain unknown.  Snape left, going back to his corridors.

            James had been worried about his son.  He wasn't as James had hoped him to be, but he was still his heir and his son by blood.  He wasn't as heartless to neglect Harry all the things he desperately needed.  Now, though, a cold wave past over him.  Harry had been worse off then he had thought he was.  Raped!  To make it worse, the children saw it.  How awkward that could get, seeing their oldest brother defiled in such a way.  Would he reject him because of that?  Harry had no choice.  He would be spending relatively all his time with the Potters, Marauders, and his two friends.  He couldn't wander off to Snape as if Snape was his confidante.  He couldn't run away from this problem.

            James brushed some hair away from Harry's head.  This time James would try harder to understand his son.  What worried Lily, he found out, was their other children.  Lily had no idea what to say to Harry to begin with and when she tried to talk to him, everything came out wrong.  Lily realized how different Harry was from her other children.  They had been raised so differently.  After Harry's death (she hadn't known he was still alive) she spoiled her children.  She wanted them to have the life Harry would never have, so she taught them all about politics in the Wizarding world and let them throw huge parties like James had had when he was younger.  She raised them as purebloods, though they were half-bloods, the influential Potter line made up for it.  Harry had never had a birthday party.  His life looked like one angst sentiment to the next and now it turned out he had been raped.  She didn't know what to do or say and she blushed every time she looked at him, thinking of his body against that man's body.

            She felt so embarrassed!  It made her wonder what type of talk she would have with her younger children.  She felt so incompetent, so young, and no matter how she tried she felt she'd never be the mother Harry deserved.  Their cultures were so different and now things would get worse.  The children had seen murder, had seen rape.  They would treat Harry differently.  If Harry got on their bad side, they might blackmail him with the information and play pranks on him, knowing his weakness, because they didn't know that that would cross the line of okay and terribly wrong.

            How old was she?  Old enough to be able to handle this problem!  Here she was, thinking of Harry as a problem.  She was a lost cause.  And the children… she had to talk to them now!  Including Hermione and Ron…  She groaned, rubbing her forehead.  Oh well, it was worth it for Harry.  However, Lily couldn't ignore that tiny voice in her head that asked, "Is it?"

            Harry's eyelids opened.  He seemed happy at first, but then he seemed to realize what had happened. 

"Professor Dumbledore," he called softly, "May I leave now?"  He wanted to go back to Snape's quarters, rage and talk to him as he knew that Snape would rage right back him or do something unexpected.  He had grown a bit attached to the Potions Master and it seemed easier to run away (screw Gryffindor courage) and talk with him about it than confront the people in front of him.

"Harry, you will be spending the rest of the summer with your family in Hogwarts.  You are not to see Severus."  Now to say that Harry was an emotional wreck would not a total lie.  However, that event had happened in while he was thirteen, and though he still felt many aftereffects of it, he had licked his wounds a while ago.  Remaining on this problem would mean death when dealing with the Dark Lord.

"No," Harry said, "I rather not."

"Harry," Dumbledore started, he really hated to do this, "It is important that your bond with your parents and siblings strengthen."

"I want to talk to Snape about this."

"Professor Snape, Harry, and I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't care if you think it's a good idea or not, this is my life, and judging by things I probably won't live past the age of twenty-one, so I should be able to do what I want in my last few years."  Harry left only to hear, "Your stuff has been fetched already, Harry."

            Harry ran down to Snape's quarters and said the password.  It didn't work.  He yelled it again and again and again and again and again.  In frustration and horror he started crying and yelling, banging on the portrait, to the portrait's horror.  Snape finally opened the door.

"You are not to be here," he said coldly.  Harry became frantic.  Snape would reject him now.  The thought was too horrible, too terrible to be true!  Not when he needed Snape the most, that greasy git!

"Please don't," Harry said through coughs but Snape quickly interrupted him.

"Harry, I'm not letting you come in, and can you please stop that infernal crying!"

"But…"

"Harry.  I order you to not come see me until the school year unless the direst conditions life or death or things dealing with the Order.  This doesn't include suicide."

            Harry's breath caught.  He had to do it, because the agreement he made with Snape.  He turned around, feeling extremely angry, and made his way slowly up to the Hospital Wing.  It wasn't fair!  He didn't know what to do. "At least you have Sirius," a tiny voice said in his mind, but Harry responded with foul curses.  He didn't want Sirius right now. 

"Harry," Lily said softly, noticing his eyes bright with tears and anger, "I know this will be hard but we've got to try.  But now… I think we have to talk about what we saw in your Pensieve."  Harry didn't want to tell them anything.  Then he remembered the order with Snape didn't include letters.  He could write to him!  Suddenly the world seemed much brighter.  However, if they thought they were gonna get anything from him concerning the memories they had looked at, they had better be kidding. 

"You deserve no explanation.  What is there to talk about?  How I had a shitty childhood in which pretty much all my Muggle friends were killed by a gang?  I don't think so."

"I'm trying to understand you, damn it!  Stop your little games and try as well!  I don't understand you, but I'm trying to help.  This is what a mother is supposed to do; something you wouldn't know since you never had a mother.  I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but this is ridiculous!  You can't live like you're going to die soon.  I'm sorry, maybe I'm being cruel, but you have to explain why you feel the way you do!  We are strangers; I haven't read the Harry Potter biography!  I want to hear it from you."    

"Fine, my life was fine until I started Hogwarts.  Year after year I nearly got killed.  Last year was the worse.  He knows my mind now, he knows how I think.  That's all you need to know."

"Let's start with little questions then.  Who was that silver-haired boy in your memories?"

"Deceased."

"That's not an answer!  I mean was he a friend, what was his name, stuff like that."  Harry's eyes widened and said, "Dumbledore!  That wasn't my memory!  That was the Dark Lord's." Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily, it was important Harry knew Occlumency now.  What was more important though?  Harry making allies or learning Occlumency?  Harry could deal with some memories that weren't his own, right?

"Next question, do you have a girlfriend?"  Harry smiled and shook his head. 

"Okay.  What is your relationship with Lord Voldemort?"

"We are bonded.  Oh yeah, he's my boyfriend," Harry said, grinning.  To Harry's horror, his finger (the one with Salazar's ring) started burning. "Shit!" he muttered.  This was not good.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked.

"Salazar, you idiot!  I didn't think you meant that I belonged to you in _that_ way!"

"What?"

"I said the Dark Lord was my boyfriend and this ring is burning my finger off because of that.  Salazar gave me an engagement ring!"

            Suddenly it clicked in everyone's minds.  Harry was despairing, "I'm going to die a virgin!"  Famous last words.

Author's notes:  Um… this is  extremely short?  Why you ask?  IT is either this or wait a month for the full 8 paged chapter because I have to finish homework (schools starts on Sept. 1st for me).  I am busy and love to procrastinate.  Love you guys, I talk to you more than I do my friends (laughs crazily because she knows it's true)… well… Now I'm creeped out by myself.


	11. Monstrosity

Monstrosity

Never Glance into Your Own Black Hole

Last night I had a dream

Nothing special

It was just another dream

Nothing special.

I woke up

All messed up

The nightmare of this world

Is all messed up.

Harry was more than a little depressed. He felt like a stone, calm and strong, but ultimately inanimate. One dreary morning, the day after all the drama, Harry slept late as he was cocooned by his dreams that owned him completely, and was confronted by the disturbing nightmare that plagued his life. It was Voldemort.

"Harry, _pet_, I am surprised with your recent behavior." Voldemort smiled, his intense and powerful red eyes completely focused on Harry. Harry did not like the smile, the way he said his name, and what Voldemort had called him. Still, though, Voldemort had so much_ power_ that it was nearly overwhelming.

"Don't call me that. I am not a pet!"

"You aren't? You really had me confused there; since that's how everyone you care about treats you. They lock you up, clip your wings, and force you to stay healthy, leave you alone when something more amusing catches their eyes, and yet still expect you to sing for _them_, and them only. Such a tragic little pet you've become; they don't want you anymore."

"Don't say that! Of course they do some of those things, but it is only because they care! Then again, you wouldn't know much about caring, would you? No one ever cared about filth like you when you were young!" Harry closed his mouth quickly, feeling hot rage slip away. Those crimson eyes, so much like liquid blood, watching him, daring him to move, to breathe, to say another word, promised pain.

"Harry. Come sit closer." Harry didn't move; his breath caught.

"Harry; do as I say now!" Voldemort suddenly grabbed Harry and pulled him closer, causing Harry to fall on his knees, head bowed. Harry tried to move but couldn't, the pain was too great, it was the icy and the burning all at once, it was…

"I do love seeing you like this, head bowed to your master, but, we have more pressing matters to attend to." Voldemort pulled the furious boy's head up, pulling it close to his, long pale fingers curling around the boy's chin, so he could stare into the other's eyes. He traced a finger down the scar, causing the boy to scream and writhe away.

"I was not cared about when I was younger, but neither were you, Harry. They only cared for their savior, but they cared so much as they began to rebuild their lives that no one even thought to see how you were doing, to notice the signs of neglect, and the shortness when neither of your parents were particularly short. And, filth am I, young Harry? What does that make you, the one who is so connected to me that the connection will not even be broken in death? Filth? But you are not, and you should not let them stunt your growth again. I can teach you so many things…"

Harry shivered. "That's not true, Voldemort! Stop twisting around everything I say. They _do _care about me. I know they do."

"Then why won't they accept you? Why do they treat you like a fool? Why do they use you as a figurehead for their cause? Why did they never get to really know you? Why don't they see? They notice, but they ignore. Why is it that you gave access to your mind to the most powerful and evil dark wizard alive if you feel that they care about you so much? Why did your parents leave you? Doesn't it hurt to know that your mother's love doesn't protect, and never did? Doesn't it hurt to watch their children have everything you ever wanted when they left you?"

Harry covered his ears. "Stop lying! Stop it! Please!"

"Will you beg me to?"

"I…please, Voldemort! I can't…"

"You can't what?" He looked directly into Harry's eyes, and Harry could not avoid his gaze.

"What do you want, Voldemort?"

"You. I want you to join me." Harry gasped.

"You gotta be kidding me! That's insane!"

"You deserve better. We can correct this world if we join forces."

"Never." Harry promised himself as he said it aloud.

"Then listen to what I have to say today. You have questions, I have answers, but first, my pet—" Voldemort looked away, as if interrupted. "I can get rid of that ring for you, but only for something in return." Harry was torn._ Traitor. You can't be considering asking Voldemort to get rid of that ring._ Harry hated that ring. It, beautiful as it was, was the embodiment of his life: bound to a fate so tightly that he could not rid himself of it. He wanted it off, no he _needed_ it off.

"What do you want in return?" Harry was hesitant, mouth dry and hot with anxiety.

"You must talk to me at least once every two weeks from now to the end of the whole school year. You will give Severus that blood of yours to find me a younger body."

"My blood? What do you need with my," suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks, "Dementor's blood?"

'"Yes. Do you agree to my terms?"

"I do." Harry spoke softly, ignoring the burn in his eyes and the twisting of his stomach.

"Then we have a deal, by Wizarding Code of Conduct 23, we both must follow the terms or become legally owned by the other."

"Harry, for your own parents to leave you, for you to have to listen to the other muggle children at your school whisper about you, the 'bastard' child. You must be wondering what saved you from the killing curse that night so many years ago, if your mother's love wasn't the thing that saved you. They left you to die in hopes of saving the growing twins in your mother's womb. They left to save some beings that had yet to have all their fingers or respond to light. You were concrete, and they left you to die by my hand."

"That's not true! Those memories that I see when the Dementors are close are real, and Dumbledore said that they had nearly died, not that they abandoned me!"

"You may trust Dumbledore's word. What about your parents' words? What makes you believe them? The fact remains the same. You were left alone that night while they fled. You were the one who was to bear the burden as the world's new scapegoat. So, they survived my killing curse. Impossible."

"Impossible? Look at the scar on my forehead, Voldemort, the very one bonding me to you!"

"Exactly. You have a curse scar, they don't. You protected them somehow, Harry, and you are more powerful than anybody could have hoped. Your mother's love and sacrifice didn't save you; you saved them unconsciously by manipulating my magic. Even then you could recognize the bond that we share. Your magic recognized my magic, and manipulated it. I still haven't figured this out, but I could, and I can if you tell me the prophecy."

Harry shivered. Voldemort was too close. His eyes burned in Harry's mind, as he nearly suffocated from their scalding intensity. It was too much; all of it was too much. He did not want to hear anymore of this blasphemy. But…he wanted to know what Voldemort knew that made Voldemort smile in that peculiar way, as if nothing mattered except for the truth that he was twisting and manipulating. This wasn't happening. He wasn't bargaining with Voldemort, actually _listening _to that monster! But then again, who else did he have? _You have yourself. You have Snape. You have Sirius, Hermione, Remus, and Ron. You have Dumbledore. They love you. _Harry frowned. He did _have_ them. Yet, he was inexplicably driven to this maniac and his words. He was drawn to this danger in front of him that he knew would mean his end. There was too much to know, too much to learn, from Voldemort. This was wrong. Still, it wasn't like he was learning the Dark Arts. Voldemort was corrupting his mind, however. At this thought, Harry pulled away from Voldemort and met that monster's eyes.

Jade kaleidoscopic eyes widened. There was something in that monster's eyes that he hadn't expected to see. There was something _human_ in those eyes, something that Harry had seen in his own eyes when looking at the mirror. At this realization, plus the awful burning in his scar, Harry's mind fell to tatters. He screamed. His mind was a fog. Then a clear voice cut through the fog like a knife through melting butter.

"Harry. You made a decision that night long ago when we first met, and you will be paying for a decision you made unconsciously when you were very young for the rest of your life. You got that scar from surviving death, but at what price? It has not only marked your forehead, but your very soul. You will pay the price of cheating death not only for your life and your mother and father's lives, but also for those unborn twins. I can lessen this price because of the second choice you made by accidentally manipulating my magic. However, you have much to learn, and I have much to teach."

Suddenly the fog came back full-force as the pain became unbearable. His body was shaking, cold and sweaty skin pressed against itself in a pain which could not be lessened or relieved. This could be Hell, but Harry knew better. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth. He would not lose! He would fight! He pushed through the fog. He would fight because he was not yet ready to face himself. Harry could finally see the world, and to his astonishment, the ring was gone. That did not surprise Harry; the emptiness that came with its absence did. A great sadness overcame Harry, and he wept not as a baby but as the way only the ones who have dealt with life the way God wanted them to but still failed, were betrayed, or broken did. He wanted the ring back.

It was Voldemort's fault. It had to have been! There was no reason to believe that Voldemort hadn't manipulated Harry to have felt that burning when Harry had said that he was in a relationship. Harry closed his eyes. His mouth resolutely straightened. He did not need a ring to guide him. He still had Salazar on his side, and even if Harry had grown attached to the beautiful ring, their was no reason that he couldn't ask Salazar's room for one to wear on a different finger as to honor Salazar as the great one he was and to pay respect to the one whose insignia he bore. Harry frowned as he remembered his family. He could no longer avoid them. The confrontation was inevitable.

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Harry wanted out. His thought processes were as such: _I need to get out, I need to run away, I need to be free. Free of what? Free of responsibility. Free of emotion. Free of darkness. Free from Light. Free from sin. Free from death_. He then did something he would never forgive himself for doing. He flew on a broomstick until he was away from Hogwarts, until he was back to Diagon Alley. He was such a fool.

"Harry, so you came to see me?" _No, it couldn't be…_ Red eyes flashed in his mind. His head pounded with an intense pain. "Voldemort…"

Voldemort proceeded to kidnap Harry and take him back to a headquarters. Harry remained limp, wondering what type of fool he was. _What have I done? I left the ones I love and who love me to be captured by the monster that I have tried to humanize in my mind so I can convince myself that I'll never have to kill. And here I am… I'm no longer a hero. I am a fool. In a way, I guess, I did know what I was doing. I wish I could rewind these events._

Voldemort then explained to Harry that he would be tortured. There was no explanation for such an odd statement; there was no need for one. Harry sat in a corner. He had no wand. He didn't have Hedwig. He was armed only with his foolish pride and stubborn mind.

Bellatrix was a bitch. There was no other way to say it, for she was filth and sinning, and got hot and wet over other people's pain, a true sadist. She smiled at the boy whose eyes were empty in a type of self-pity that came right before self-hatred. He smiled to hide his fear as he saw her filthy smile and her long, black, wasted hair. There were deep crevices in her forehead and as a smile eased its way on her face; the darkness in it seemed to shine. She walked towards him and cruelly said, "Restrostico!" The effects of the spell were quick to assume themselves on Harry. He felt as if someone was slowing pulling out all the hair on his body, one strand at a time. Harry didn't move, but frowned, feeling the saltiness of blood line his teeth as he bit down too hard on his tongue. He had to fight back! Still, something was forcing him to give up. The ache in his heart swelled as he tried to ignore the pain, but his lungs were squeezing in efforts of relieving the pain through respiration, but to no avail.

Then it was almost as if someone had slapped him. His eyes refocused and he swung at her. She giggled, licking her wrinkled lips. "Nonsemper Eritaestas!" He felt his movements lull. His mouth felt thick in his mouth and the other spell was still active. He felt as if his skin were baking and crumbling. She approached him, licking the blood leaking from his aching scar. The Boy-who-Lived finally snapped. He could not take the pain. He could not take in this perversion, and that detestable woman would feel the vengeance of an angry soul wrecked and impressed upon hers.

He transformed, all the while hating the abstract feeling of gloom and dark slime covering his body. The eyes were the worst part. It felt as if his eyes were becoming ashes and set on fire. The pain from his scar was blocked out with an intense yearning for the happiness that the female monster in front of him had. He had a completely new view of her from this dementor body. She looked like a trashy and used little girl whose hatred had aged her all too soon. He felt no pity. Reaching out his hand as his rattling breath seemed to raise the hairs on her skin, he loomed ever closer. Yes, she had spent a great deal time in Azkaban; of course she held some degree of fear and horror for dementors.

Her body quivered, her mouth moving and her wand out, but the nearly imperceptible sounds were not of any human language, but could be recognized by any human as the sounds a frightened, broken person made when he or she realized that the nightmare was indeed real. He loomed closer, relishing in the brightness her soul held. All souls shined in a dementor's eyes, but this one had beautiful memories to draw from. He fed on the misery that became a part of her as she fell to the floor like a broken doll with the lost eyes of a child.

She could no longer avoid the cold feeling she sometimes felt when she wasn't happy, since she could no longer distract herself. She needed to be happy, and she need it now, but as the dark memories of her childhood and early marriage came back, being happy was too great a feat for her to achieve. During her childhood she had always been forced to be the submissive little girl to her relatives, but by joining the Dark Lord she had found some pleasure in being submissive. If she was submissive to him, she could be in control of the ones she tortured; she didn't care who she tortured, but it made her feel happy, it made her feel strong. She had been in control when she was submissive to her Lord.

Harry smiled. She was a fool. He would heal her wounds anyway; he'd kiss her and make the hurt go away. He drew in close to her and started the kiss, but it was all too soon interrupted by the angry Lord that had rescued her from her submissive prison and gave her something to live for, when he could have saved her soul from falling towards the precipitous path she had slowly trod; instead, that monster had shown her how to dive down there, how to fall past rock-bottom, how to burn and enjoy it by finding pleasure in inflicting a different type of burn on them.

Voldemort cast Avada Kedavra on the dementor before him, causing it to turn back to the teenaged boy. At that time, Harry wept. He had let Voldemort destroy the very ring that was the only thing that could lead to the true salvation of the Wizarding world. Right now, he needed help.

A man awoke from a self-induced hallucinogenic sleep and smiled. Someone who belonged to him had just called for him.

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"MY SON IS NOT HERE!" James had finally cracked, relatively a second before Sirius had. Remus ran his fingers through his hair; it was now more gray than brown, and he was beginning to understand what Madam Pomfrey had meant when she said the graying of his hair was not because of his werewolf transformations, but because of a "stressful environment."

Remus sighed. He should have known that Harry would do something idiotic like this after his excursion to Diagon Alley and had gotten much reprieve. As Remus stood up, gripping his wand tightly, and going through the motions of the type of bravery that had allowed him a seat in the House of Gryffindor, he remembered that this type of bravery was to do what needed to be done without lax of emotions fogging the mind. This bravery, like all forms of bravery, was dangerous; it caused harm upon the one using it. The emotions that were furiously bubbling were shoved in tightly where they slowly combusted with no relief, causing an implosion sort of effect.

"Harry has left us again." Remus announced, saying what everyone thought, but did not say in order for someone else to hopefully contradict those thoughts. His heart fluttered. Harry meant so much to him, even if it was always obvious that Harry loved Sirius more and if there was a traitor, being either Remus or Sirius, Remus would've always been chosen up until recently. Then again, Remus was used to that since James had always liked Sirius better as well. A gray strand of hair clung desperately to his calm face. He was not calm, but he had to have such a façade so that he could save Harry.

As everyone followed Remus, first to Dumbledore's office, and then by leaving the grounds, a wave of despair overcame him. He wasn't strong. He couldn't control his emotions, and he wasn't strong enough to be the one who was always overshadowed, the one who was never thanked, and the one who was a werewolf. The Grangers faces of fear and wide-eyed terror blocked his mind's eye-view. He became cold as dusk in the desert. No matter what anyone did or said, he _was_ a monster. He was a freak, a dark creature, and was no longer human. That was the reason why he lived this half-life, always held back by something when he wished to speak out. He did not want anyone to see him. He did not want to be around anyone. He wanted to be alone, so that he could… So that he could do what? _So you can learn to hate yourself even more_, a voice said. That made since. Even when the Marauders were with him, he always felt cold because he knew he could never be a true part of them.

They said that they accepted him, that they would protect his secret as if was their own. Then why did they take advantage of him in his cursed form to do their bidding? Why did they use him when he had no control over his mind, so he almost killed someone? What would happen if he had killed Snape? He'd be locked up as they lived their lives and he'd be sent to Azkaban. How could they? Even now, his heart gives way to tremors with that question; he knows the answer as he always does. It was because even though they "accepted" him, at that time he still was not human to them. It was obvious. No one could ever love him for what he was; he was disgusting. That's what his dad had always told him, and his mom was even worse. She told him (after he came home in fits of tears and rage) that it was okay because she loved him and that would make up for it. She always told him that she loved him, and it was said in such a manic manner that he did not believe it. She was terrified of him, and that fear was always in her eyes as she went through her catechism of lies of praise and love towards him.

No! He had to stop the memories. Right now, he had to save Harry, just like he had at the Department of Mysteries. He had saved Harry, yet he'd never forget the way Harry looked at him. His green eyes had been alive with a type of anger, hatred, and betrayal that he had never before seen. His eyes looked like the Killing Curse. Harry was still young, and grief had overwhelmed him. Those eyes, however, burned in his mind along with the damning mantras of "I love you" and his father's hate, rejection, and worst of all, disgust towards him. Little did Remus know that these very thoughts would be the ones that would lead him to have tea with Snape one day soon.

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"Ron? Where is Harry?"

"I dunno."

"The adults went looking for him a few minutes ago," Davis replied.

"Then he's gone," Hermione said weakly, "I wanted to apologize. I feel really bad about all of that, and since it turns out that Snape's not abusing him, it makes us seem…"

"Evil. Vindictive. Sadistic?" Davis nonchalantly supplied. He should have listened to his own instincts instead of blindly following his girlfriend because he….cared…. about her. He felt so bad for Harry. After seeing Harry in such a position he seemed to want to know him even more. It was an unhealthy obsession; he could not stop thinking about the enigma that was his brother. He wanted to know him, to break him, to piece him back together, to know everything about him: his secrets, his wishes, his dreams, his body, his eyes, and his mannerisms. Davis tried as best as he could to quell this dark type of obsession by thinking of Hermione, his love. He _did _love her, but even images of her could not stop the insanity in his mind because he knew that she was the instrument of his Hell. She had betrayed Harry, and she was one of the few Harry seemed to care about.

He couldn't tell her about this obsession. She would not understand how seeing his brother's nude body pressed to another had fascinated him. She'd think he was some psycho, but that wasn't the case at all. That awful act that had been forced upon his brother wasn't what fascinated him, but Harry's actions in it, the ways he did things, the way he was so _different_. How anyone could understand how he was drawn to someone who was so odd, so enigmatic, and who was so bitingly cruel, was completely imperceptible.

Hermione was staring at him now. She seemed to have realized that something else was greatly upsetting Davis; she seemed to see the barrier forming between them, starting with the very first bricks. Her eyes were as he loved; brown and soft, but gray with the solutions and complex thoughts that seemed to come as naturally to her as flying was to Harry. He loved her, but his obsession was just that: _the persistent haunting or domination of the mind by a particular desire, idea, or image_. (The part of the sentence before this one that is in italics is from PJC which I got from using the dictionary on so I do not own that definition.)"I can't believe what Harry let himself be subjected to. He's so… disgusting. Did you see how he stabbed that man? He's a monster! I bet he enjoyed every second of that," Nathan said, disdainfully, "I bet," but before he continued Ron had nearly punched him, but Davis was there first. Davis growled. "Just shut your damn mouth for once, Nathan, or I'll shut it for you." Lena and Alexander watched in shock. Davis was much like Remus; both were quiet, gentle-spirited, and rarely were seen with negative raw emotions on their faces. They had never seen Davis so angry or heard him curse before. Davis had always been calm, but something had broken in two inside of him.

"Let's get this straight," Ron said loudly, "We screwed up. Now is not the time to blame our actions on others, but if any of you ever use what you saw in Harry's pensieve against him I will personally rip out your fingernails. Even better, when the adults come back, we'll make a Wizarding Contract to ensure that none of us do." Hermione's eyes lit up."That's a great idea Ron! Sometimes I think you're a complete idiot, and then you come up with things like that and I am proved wrong." Hermione smiled as Ron struggled to figure out if he should take that remark as an insult or a compliment. Alexander spoke up."To tell you the truth, I am growing to dislike Harry more and more. He's the boy-who-lived and yet he's not a good person at all, he doesn't have the best past, and he always leaves to rescue people by himself without telling anyone, and he usually fails. Because of him, we are locked in this room until Mom and Dad and the others return with him." Alexander turned to look at Davis, and shivered violently. Davis's eyes danced with madness and there was rage in his stance, but he didn't say anything. Everyone turned to watch Davis.

"What is it?" Davis finally asked, albeit in a restrainedly calm tone."Davis, are you okay?" Hermione asked, brushing away some of his beautiful reddish gold hair from his face and peering into his amazing hazel eyes. They were so light, she noticed. He turned towards her, knowing that he'd die for her if need be, even live for her! She was amazing, but he felt that she didn't love him as much as he loved her."I'm fine," he muttered, turning away from her. She was confused. Where was her polite knight in shining armor, and who was this brooding boy who reminded her much of the way Harry was ever since the Department of Mysteries incident?

"No, you aren't. Why?" He looked at her with an expression that made her want to do anything to alleviate his pain. "I need to talk with Harry. I need to know and learn so much from him. I know that he can help me, and I need him to help me." Hermione frowned. She could not help him and that made her feel colder and dumber than anything else. She wanted to be there for him, even if things didn't work out, she wanted him to know that she…cared… about him as well. Of course, Davis would be somewhat like Harry, they were siblings. Hermione knew that they had completely different upbringings and childhoods, so why is it that when she looked at Davis's eyes right now, they looked a lot like Harry's eyes? Why did they share something that she could never understand, never even begin to understand, something she'd never experience? So there must have been something in their genes, as if Davis wasn't meant to be Nathan's twin, but instead Harry's. He was sitting down now, head bowed, staring at something that she would never, no matter how hard she tried, be able to see. She felt like crying. She _did _love him! Then why was it so hard to even be there for him when he needed it the most? The dark crevices in her soul were awoken as she felt the beginnings of self-hatred and withdrawal. Was she losing him? That was of no consequence to this problem, and she knew it. What she was losing right now was her very own self. She looked back at him and felt as lonely as she had all those years in which she had not known Ron and Harry. They did not know how she had no friends before them; she had been excluded because of her intelligence while she was in muggle school. Harry and Ron were her light. The truth was that she could have had many friends, and she knew it. Yet, she refused to give up what made her different than them, so the pain was almost self-constructed. She would rather be alone with her intelligence, curiosity, and determination than with friends but with less of all of those things. Those talents were the very things that made her the person that she was. Yet the Sorting Hat had sorted her into Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw, and all those talents were meaningless now because no matter how hard she tried, she was just unable to reach Davis. She closed her eyes, not noticing Ron's concerned glances and Nathan's solemn countenance as he watched her, wishing for something that she had. She promised herself that no matter the Hell she would endure, she would reach him, she would save Davis, and she would show the world that intelligence was not monstrous as it seemed to be. Her talents would be her armor as she promised she would change the world, to save herself and to save Davis.

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Harry absently wondered, "Where is Hedwig?" He shouldn't have worried. Hedwig was in the hands of a true monster, not the ones so many people had made themselves out to be. He was not a monster made of insecurities, doubts, appearances, memories, unhealed wounds, emotional scars, cruelty, or recognition. He was a monster made of something unadulterated. He was a monster made unto himself and was about to enter a world that was in no way ready for him. Hedwig was fine, just as everything would be even after the monster entered the world, but she was changed, just as he would change the world. If the change was for better or worse was really up to your view, nothing else. The monster's laugh echoed, and the centaurs felt the change.

Last night I had a dream

Nothing special

It was just another dream

Nothing special.

I woke up

All messed up

The nightmare of this world

Is all messed up.

Yes, last night I had a dream 

I liked it there

It was just any old dream

But I was killed as the spare.

Hope you enjoyed.-**Verdesilath**


End file.
